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DEERING  OF  DEAL 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

KitW  YORK  •    BOSTON   ■    CHICAGO 
DALLAS   •    SAN   rRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limittd 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOUKNB 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


"don't  have  a  fit,  deering,  it's  only  maclaren 


DEERING  OF  DEAL 


OR 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SCHOOL 


BY 
LATTA  GRISWOLD 


"  Toujours  fidUe  et  sans  souci  " 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1914 

All  righlt  reterted 


COPTKIQHT,  1912 

bt  the  macmillan  company 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  October,  1912. 
Reprinted  July,  1913,  July.  1914. 


PRCnS    OF    T.     MORtV    &    BON 
GREENFIELD,   MASS.,   U.  S.   A. 


■H 


To 

JOHN  GLENOE  WRIGHT 

LEE  HALL  JONES 

ROBERT  GROSVENOR 

LUCIUS  SCOTT  LANDRETH,  JR. 

HARRY  L.  FENNER 

SAMUEL  M.  SHOEMAKER,  JR. 

in  warm  friendship  and  in  memory  of 
many  happy  days  at  school 


FOREWORD 

The  Author  desires  to  state  that  none  of  the  charac- 
ters in  this  story,  either  boys  or  masters,  are  portraits. 
The  incidents  are  entirely  fictitious,  and  Deal  School, 
though  it  shares  certain  topographical  features  with 
the  school  with  which  the  Author  is  connected,  exists 
only  in  his  imagination. 

St.  Geobge's  School, 

Newport:  18  April,  1912. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Deal  School 1 

II.  A  Hazing  Bee 10 

III.  "Pax" 24 

IV.  Michaelmas  Term 35 

V.  The  Boxford  Game 47 

VI.  Aftermath 61 

VII.  Lovel's  Woods 71 

VIII.  A  Midnight  Lark 87 

IX.  An  Ending 107 

X.  Finch .120 

XI.  The  Discomfiture  of  Ducky  Thornton     .    .    .  130 

XII.  A  Gating  and  a  Game 146 

XIII.  The  Night  of  the  Bonfire 159 

XIV.  The  Spectacle 169 

XV.  Tony  Plays  the  Part  of  a  Guardian  Angel    .    .  188 

XVI.  A  Rift  in  Friendship 204 

XVII.  Leave-taking 216 

XVIII.  The  Head  Prefectship       232 

XIX.  The  Result  of  the  Protest 250 

XX.  Finch's  Hour 267 

XXI.  Self-sacrifice 284 

XXII.  The  Chapel 294 

XXIII.  The  Last  Term 306 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Don't  have  a  fit,  Deering,  it's  only  Maclaren"  .  Page  99  .  Frontispiece 
Map  of  Deal  School        ix 

FACING  PAGE 

Like  a  flash  he  slipped  off  his  coat  and  cast  it  full  in  Chapin's 

face 22 

"After  due  consideration  Captain  Maclaren  and  I  have  decided  to 

play  Deering  at  left  end  in  tomorrow's  game." 50 

Tony  dodged     .     .     .     and  raced  on  with  a  clear  field     ....  158 

He  opened  the  drawers  and  thrust  malicious  disturbing  hands 

among  the  contents 210 

Tony  was  putting  his  questions  now  rapidly  and  with  intention  for 

he  had  become  suspicious 254 

With  terrible  effort  he  got  to  the  surface  again 292 

"You  will  certiunly  be  coming  up  to  college  next  year?"    .    .    ,    .,  306 


"Tall,  eager,  a  face  to  remember, 

A  flush  that  could  change  as  the  day ; 
A  spirit  that  knew  not  December, 
That  brightened  the  sunshine  of  May »» 

Fresh  breezes  blow  and  touch  their  favorite  hill, 
The  waters  quiver  in  the  mellow  light. 

Wafts  Paradise  her  fragrance  o'er  the  marsh. 
The  Campus  gleams  with  crimson  and  with  white. 

Fair  banners  flutter  in  the  flowing  winds, 
And  hopes  are  gleaming  from  the  eyes  of  youth; 

Old  songs,  from  hearts  that  throb  with  loyal  blood, 
Arise,  and  echo  with  the  ring  of  truth. 

Bright  laughter,  merry  shouts  attune  the  air. 
And  over  all  the  place  is  cast  the  gleam 

That  early  summer  lends  unto  the  hours. 
The  passing  hours  that  flow  as  doth  a  dream. 

Fleet  eager  boys  the  base  attain ;  the  ball 
In  ambient  air  speeds  like  a  fleeing  bird; 

Swift  hands  and  sure  arrest  its  vagrant  flight. 
As  from  a  hundred  throats  hurrahs  are  heard. 

Dear  scenes!  as  pensive  through  them  wandering, 
The  shadows  lengthen  in  the  slanting  Ught; 

Mists  float  across  the  golden  campus,  gleam 
As  light  of  stars  in  stilly  depths  of  night. 

Then  faces  in  the  wreathes  of  mist  appear, 

Dear  faces  that  we  loved  in  long  ago 
Shine  brightly;  voices  murmur  in  the  air, 

Beloved  voices  that  we  used  to  know. 

Fades  far  the  dreamy  present,  fades  the  day. 
With  its  enduring  hopes  and  passing  fears; 

Old  Boys  surround  us;  and  the  heart  is  glad 
For  all  the  friendliness  of  vanished  years. 


DEERING  OF  DEAL 


CHAPTER  I 

DEAL  SCHOOL 

If  one  chanced  to  examine  the  catalogues  of  Kings- 
bridge  College  for  the  past  hundred  years  it  would  be 
found  that  in  most  of  them  is  recorded  the  name  of 
some  dead  and  gone  Deering — a  name  famous  in  the 
annals  of  the  South — who  came  up  from  Louisiana, 
"marched  through  the  four  long  happy  years  of  col- 
lege," as  the  old  song  has  it,  with  an  arts  degree  to  his 
credit;  or,  perchance,  marched  out  at  the  end  of  one 
or  two  of  them  with  nothing  to  his  credit  at  all. 
Kingsbridge  was  a  tradition  in  the  Deering  family, 
southern  though  it  was — a  tradition  that  was  hardly 
broken,  even  when  in  1861  Victor  Deering  and  a  hun- 
dred other  chivalrous  youths  threw  their  text-books 
out  of  the  windows  and  enlisted  in  the  armies  of  the 
Confederacy.  Victor's  father,  Basil,  too,  was  in  the 
war,  and  laid  down  his  arms  at  Appomattox  as  a 
brigadier-general — breveted  for  gallantry  on  the  field 
of  action.  For  a  while  it  seemed  that  no  Deerings 
would  go  to  Kingsbridge,  but  time  at  length  healed 
the  old  antagonisms,  and  when  it  became  a  question 
where  young  Anthony,  Victor's  boy,  should  go  to 

1 


2  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

college,  there  was  no  longer  any  question  that  Kings- 
bridge  should  be  the  place. 

Preparing  for  Kingsbridge,  before  the  war,  had 
meant  going  first  for  three  or  four  years  to  Deal  School, 
another  Csesarean  seat  of  learning,  almost  as  well 
known  as  the  college  itself.  The  warm-hearted  old 
general  had  as  fond  memories  of  the  school-topped, 
wind-swept  hill  above  the  rocks  of  Deal,  as  he  had  of 
the  meadows  and  hills  about  Kingsbridge.  There  were 
a  great  many  family  counsels  held  in  the  old  house  on 
the  bayou;  some  prejudices  pocketed;  some  feminine 
qualms  appeased  and  tears  dried;  and  a  great  deal  of 
correspondence  was  exchanged  between  the  Head 
Master  of  Deal  and  the  old  General,  who  ruled  his 
family  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

And  so  at  length  on  a  bright  crisp  September  morn- 
ing, when  he  was  about  fifteen  years  old,  Anthony 
Deering  found  himself  getting  out  of  the  little  way- 
train  that  runs  from  Coventry  to  Monday  Port  across 
the  Csesarean  flats,  and  enquiring  diligently  for  a  hack 
to  drive  him  out  to  Deal  School.  He  had  made  the 
journey  up  from  New  Orleans  alone,  without  a  quaver 
until  he  came  to  his  journey's  end.  He  was  a  day  late 
for  the  opening  of  school,  so  that  he  was  the  only 
passenger  to  alight  at  Monday  Port. 

A  vociferous  cabman  offered  him  the  services  of  a 
dilapidated  fly  and  a  bony  horse.  He  looked  about 
for  better,  but  not  finding  them,  he  pulled  his  belt  a 
trifle  tighter,  swallowed  the  lump  in  his  throat,  and 
quieted  the  man  by  thrusting  his  bag  into  his  hand. 
Then  he  jumped  into  the  crazy  vehicle,  and  shouted  in 
a  high  voice,  "  Deal  School!  " 


DEAL  SCHOOL  3 

Tony  had  never  been  to  Monday  Port  before,  but 
he  had  heard  a  great  deal  of  it  from  his  mother,  who 
had  spent  gay  summers  there  in  her  girlhood,  before 
the  war.  It  had  once  been  a  favorite  resort  for 
Southerners,  but  after  their  exodus,  was  taken  up  by 
Northern  people,  and  for  a  decade  or  so  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  Csesarean  watering-places.  The  town 
occupied  a  long  stretch  of  level  country  between  the 
sea  and  a  range  of  low-lying  sandhills.  Its  streets 
were  pretty  and  clean,  shaded  for  the  most  part  by 
maple  trees,  with  modest  cottages  on  either  side, 
and  here  and  there  more  pretentious  modern  "villas," 
representing  almost  every  conceivable  style  of  archi- 
tecture. Tony  was  not  much  interested  in  Monday 
Port,  however,  and  he  eyed  these  pleasant  homes 
with  a  rueful  glance,  which  gave  an  odd  expression  to 
his  attractive  young  face;  for  despite  the  shadows 
in  his  gray-blue  eyes  and  the  frown  on  his  dark  brows, 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  anything  but  a  surly  or 
fretful  lad.  There  was  a  sparkle  in  the  depths  of  the 
shadow;  lines  of  cheerfulness  behind  the  frown;  the 
glow  of  health  in  his  cheeks. 

At  last  the  old  horse  dragged  the  fly  listlessly  out 
of  the  shady  street  and  they  came  into  an  open  space, 
which  fronted  on  a  broad  sheet  of  water  flowing  down 
with  a  fine  sweep  to  the  sea.  A  long  bridge  led  across 
Deal  Water  to  a  straight  white  road  which  cleft  a 
clean  path  through  the  rising  meadowland.  East- 
ward the  wide  expanse  of  green  was  edged  by  a  line 
of  tawny  sands,  where  the  turf  swept  down  to  the 
bluffs.  Beyond  lay  the  sea,  sparkling  hke  a  great 
splendid  jewel.     Tony  loved  the  sea,   and  a  thrill 


4  PEERING  OF  DEAL 

f 
went  through  him  as  he  saw  it  again  now  after  a  long 

time.     A  load  seemed  lifted  from  his  heart,  though 

there  was  still  some  wistfulness  for  the  sleepy  bayou 

and  the  old  plantation  and  the  dear  familiar  faces. 

He  remembered  how  so  many  Deerings  before  him  had 

crossed  that  great  still  pond  on  their  way  to  school, 

and  had  known  that  restless  sea  during  happy  boyhood. 

"Is  that  the  school?"  he  cried  to  the  driver,  spring- 
ing up  as  he  caught  sight  of  a  pile  of  buildings  which 
crowned  a  hill-top  at  the  end  of  the  long  white  road 
ahead  of  them.  There  seemed  to  be  a  great  many  of 
these  buildings,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder,  long 
and  low  for  the  most  part,  but  one  higher  than  the 
rest,  marked  by  a  tapering  spire.  The  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  glinted  on  the  windows  so  that  they 
.seemed  ablaze  with  light.  A  fresh  breeze  was  blowing 
off  the  ocean.  There  was  the  smell  of  seaweed  in  the 
air  and  of  herby  autumnal  flowers.  Here  and  there 
a  field  was  stained  literally  purple  with  Michaelmas 
daisies, — a  vivid  contrast  to  the  deep  green  of  the 
meadows. 

Tony  could  scarcely  contain  himself  as  the  fly 
crawled  up  the  steep  road.  Then,  just  as  they  reached 
the  summit,  a  few  paces  before  they  turned  into  the 
school  drive,  another  splendid  view  opened  to  them 
unexpectedly.  On  the  other  side  of  the  school  grounds 
the  hill  descended  much  more  precipitously  toward 
a  point  of  rocky  land  which  jutted  into  the  sea;  to 
the  east  the  land  bent  with  an  enormous  curve,  em- 
bracing a  wide  beach  about  a  mile  in  length;  then, 
turning  sharply  again,  rose  into  hilly  land,  thickly 
wooded,    rocky-shored,    which    crowded    about    the 


^-p- 


DEAL  SCHOOL 


great  inlet,  somewhat  misnamed  the  Strathsey  River. 
Across  the  morning  haze  gleamed  the  shores  of  a 
broad  peninsula  known  as  Strathsey  Neck.  In  the 
midst  of  the  river, — or  bay,  for  it  was  really  that, — a 
pile  of  rocks  jutted  from  the  waters,  on  which  was 
situate  a  Ughthouse,  marked  in  the  charts  as  Deigr 
Light. 

Tony  was  a  little  bewildered  by  the  unexpected 
impelling  beauty  of  the  situation.  The  cab  turned 
into  the  school  driveway  then,  and  at  the  end  of  a 
graveled  elm-shaded  avenue,  he  saw  a  low  long  building 
of  gray  stone — of  Tudor  architecture,  he  learned 
afterwards — approached  by  a  broad  flight  of  stone 
steps. 

A  maid-servant  met  him  at  the  door,  surmised  that 
he  was  the  new  boy,  and  said,  ''I  will  show  you  at 
once  to  the  Doctor's  study."  They  passed  through 
a  large  hall,  which  Tony  just  could  see  was  attractive, 
with  its  black  oak  panehng  and  the  great  open  fire- 
place at  the  farther  end,  and  then  he  was  ushered  into 
a  cheerful  pleasant-looking  room,  his  hand  was 
heartily  clasped,  and  a  gruff  kindly  voice  bade  him 
welcome. 

Tony  looked  up,  and  saw  a  pair  of  sharp  blue  eyes, 
set  deep  under  shaggy  gray  brows  in  a  firm  strongly- 
lined  face,  under  a  mass  of  thick  gray  hair,  looking 
enquiringly  into  his.  It  was  a  kindly,  inquisitive 
glance,  as  though  their  owner  were  wondering  what 
manner  of  boy  this  was.  Doctor  Forester  was  growing 
old  now,  but  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of  his  activity 
as  a  vigorous  and  effective  head  master.  He  looked 
down  upon  the  fair  copper-colored  head  of  the  boy, 


6  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

and  into  his  frank  gray-blue  eyes,  which  looked  back 
fearlessly. 

"Ah,  Deering,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  am  sorry 
you  are  late,  however,  for  it  is  not  the  best  way  to 
begin,"  he  said,  speaking  with  a  sharp  accent,  and  in 
quick  phrases,  which  Tony  was  to  learn  were  char- 
acteristic. 

"I  know,  sir,  but  my  grandfather — " 

''Your  grandfather,  my  boy,  used  to  get  caned 
once  a  week  by  old  Doctor  Harvey  for  the  same  in- 
corrigible offense.  But  I  understand  the  situation. 
You  are  not  to  blame.  You  are  to  have  a  room  in 
Standerland  Hall  and  sit  at  Mr.  Morris's  table  in 
the  dining-room.  Stop  here  a  moment,  while  I  send 
for  a  boy  to  show  you  about.  Then  you  can  get 
""  your  books,  and  go  into  class  the  last  morning  period. 
We  are  going  to  try  you  in  the  Third.  The  master- 
in-charge  will  assign  you  a  seat  in  the  schoolroom." 
The  doctor  touched  a  bell  on  his  desk.  ''  Send  Lawrence 
to  me,  please,"  he  said  to  the  servant  who  answered 
it;  and  then  turning  to  Deering  again,  "Well,  my  boy, 
how  is  your  grandfather?  Has  he  told  you  that  we 
were  at  Kingsbridge  together?  He  was  a  senior  when 
I  was  a  freshman.  He  rescued  me  one  night  at  a 
hazing-bee.  Those  were  good  old  days — never  the 
like  of  them  again!  I  am  glad  they  are  sending  you 
north  to  school  and  college.  Ah,  Lawrence!  come  in, 
come  in.  Lawrence,  this  is  Anthony  Deering.  He  is 
to  be  in  your  form  and  hall.  Take  him  about  a  bit — 
that's  a  good  fellow — introduce  him  to  the  masters — 
and  report  to  Mr.  Morris  before  the  last  period.  Good- 
bye now.     Come  to  the  Rectory  to  tea  this  after- 


DEAL  SCHOOL  7 

noon,  Deering,  and  we  can  have  some  talk  about  the 
GeneraL" 

The  Doctor  said  all  this  very  rapidly,  and  almost 
before  Deering  and  Lawrence  had  finished  their 
embarrassed  greeting,  he  had  turned  to  his  desks  and 
was  busy  with  his  papers. 

James  Lawrence — or  Jimmie,  as  he  was  always 
called — was  a  slender,  dark-haired  handsome  youth. 
He  had  a  frank  countenance,  an  engaging  simle, 
black  hair,  and  beautiful  dark  eyes.  He  recovered 
his  self-possession  in  a  moment  and  looked  Tony  over 
critically,  as  he  waited  for  the  Doctor  to  finish  speak- 
ing. ''Very  good,  sir,"  he  said,  at  length.  "Come 
along,  Deering,  and  I'll  show  you  where  you  are  to 
room." 

"You  may  think  the  old  gentleman  is  in  the  clouds,"' 
he  said,  as  they  turned  into  a  long  corridor  leading 
from  the  Doctor's  study,  "but  we  have  to  wake  up 
early  in  the  morning  to  fool  him — not  that  we  don't, 
you  know! — but  he  is  keen  enough  to  make  it  mighty 
interesting.  Why  I  have  got  twenty-five  distinct 
directions  about  you  already.  You  are  to  sit  next  me 
at  table,  for  instance,  and  poor  old  Teddy  Lansing 
is  transferred  to  Mr.  Williams." 

"Will  he  mind?"  asked  Tony,  a  trifle  anxiously. 

"Well,  you'll  find  out  if  he  does  mind.  Teddy's  a 
noisy  brute.  There!  that's  the  way  into  the  school- 
room," he  interrupted  himself  to  say,  "you'll  wish 
you  could  forget  it  in  a  week  or  so.  Take  a  tip,  watch 
Kit  Wilson  and  me;  we'll  show  you  a  trick  or  two. 
But  you  are  so  beastly  new.  .  .  .  See  that  animated 
broomstick  toddhng  along?     That's  old   Roylston, 


8  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  Latin  master;  you'll  meet  him  too  soon  for  your 
comfort;  we  won't  stop  now,  despite  the  Doctor's 
instructions.  Give  him  a  wide  berth,  and  don't  bluff 
him." 

By  this  time  they  had  got  outside  the  Old  School 
on  the  terrace,  with  the  wonderful  outlook  over  bay 
and  sea.  Tony  began  to  make  some  remark  about  the 
view. 

''Oh,  the  view!"  exclaimed  Lawrence,  "You'll 
get  used  to  that  too.  That's  Lovel's  Woods  over 
yonder,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  stretch  of  thickly- 
wooded  hilly  land  by  the  Strathsey  shore,  "rather 
useful  in  the  winter  term.  You're  in  Standerland, 
eh?  That's  that  long  crazy  gray  stone  building  over 
the  quad.  Lucky  dog  to  get  a  room,  say  I.  Bill 
Morris  is  the  master — a  decent  sort;  an  old  boy, 
strong  therefore  with  the  doctor.  Thank  heaven  and 
the  Head  that  you're  going  to  be  under  Bill.  No, 
we  aren't  going  over  there  now.  You'll  have  to 
scamper  over  there  to  wash  up  before  dinner.  I've 
got  a  page  of  Caesar  to  do  before  last  period,  so 
let's  toddle  to  the  schoolroom.  Bill's  in  charge,  and 
he'll  smooth  things  over.  Wait  for  me  after  school 
and  I'll  pilot  you  in  to  grub." 

They  had  brought  up  now  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Schoolhouse,  which  was  connected  with  the  Old  School 
by  a  cloister  and  formed  the  north  side  of  a  great 
quadrangle.  To  the  west  lay  Standerland  House  a«it 
the  Chapel,  a  pure  Gothic  structure  with  a  beautifulv-^v 
tower  and  spire,  and  the  Rectory,  the  Head  Master's 
residence,  between.  Eastward  lay  the  Gymnasium  and 
the  Refectory  or  dining-hall,  the  latter  on  a  line  with 


DEAL  SCHOOL  9 

the  Old  SchooL  North  of  the  Schoolhouse  was  an- 
other quadrangle,  flanked  by  Standerland  and  the 
Gymnasium,  with  IMontrose  and  Howard  Houses  on 
its  northern  side.  Beyond  that  still  lay  the  playing- 
fields.  All  this  Jimmie  barely  had  time  to  indicate, 
as  the  two  boys  ran  up  a  wide  flight  of  steps,  traversed 
a  broad  corridor,  and  entered  the  schoolroom,  where 
he  introduced  Tony  to  the  master-in-charge. 

Tony  could  never  remember  what  was  said  by  either 
of  them;  he  felt  as  if  the  gaze  of  the  hundred  pair 
of  eyes,  belonging  to  the  hundred  boys  bent  over  their 
desks,  was  burning  into  his  back.  There  was  a  vague 
sort  of  comfort  in  the  pleasant  tones  of  Mr.  Morris's 
voice,  and  somehow  he  came  back  to  consciousness 
a  little  later,  and  found  himself  seated  at  a  desk, 
with  a  brand  new  copy  of  the  Gallic  Wars  open  before 
him,  and  his  lips  pronouncing  over  and  over  in  a 
meaningless  sort  of  way — "Gallia  est  omnis  divisa 
in  partes  tres.  ..." 

Thus  Deering's  school  days  at  Deal  began. 


CHAPTER  II 


A  HAZING  BEE 


As  a  matter  of  fact  Tony  did  not  get  over  to  Stander- 
land  all  that  day.  He  had  waited  for  Lawrence  after 
that  first  curious  hour  in  the  schoolroom  and  the  sub- 
sequent recitation  in  Csesar  with  Mr.  Gray,  generally 
known  as  "Pussie,"  a  clever,  sarcastic  young  master,  who 
mercifully  however  paid  him  no  attention.  Instead 
then  of  running  over  to  the  dormitory  to  wash  up,  Jim- 
mie  led  him  down  a  flight  of  back  stairs  in  the  School- 
house,  and  through  a  series  of  subterranean  passages,  to 
a  remote  little  room,  in  which  stood  a  stationary  wash- 
stand  in  official  disuse,  which  had  probably  been  de- 
signed for  the  use  of  the  servants.  This  Jimmie  an- 
nounced with  pride  to  be  his  private  luxury.  ''It  saves 
a  deal  of  time  and  trouble  to  wash  here,"  he  explained. 
Tony  could  not  see  that  it  really  did,  but  he  felt  at 
once  a  boy's  pleasure  in  doing  the  irregular  thing. 

In  this  makeshift  of  a  washroom  they  found  another 
boy,  already  washing  his  hands.  He  was  a  bright- 
eyed,  fair-headed,  stockily-built  youth,  whose  face 
sparkled  with  good  nature.  ''Hello,  Jim,"  he  cried, 
as  they  came  up,  "who  is  your  new  friend?" 

"Deering  was  his  father's  name,"  Jimmie  answered 
facetiously,  "Anthony  was  bestowed  upon  him  by  his 
sponsors  in  baptism." 

10 


A  HAZING  BEE  11 

*'So!  Well,  fellow  Christian,  where  do  you  hail 
from?  " 

"I? — I  come  from  Louisiana." 

''Louisiana!  that's  a  heck  of  a  way  to  come.  Well, 
Deering  Anthony,  lace  my  boots  while  I  dry  my  hands." 

"Go  to  the  deuce,  Kit!"  Lawrence  broke  in. 
"Deering's  in  the  Third.  Take  your  sloppy  boots 
to  the  First  Form  locker-rooms,  and  don't  brag  here. 
Swat  him,  Tony,  if  he  gets  fresh." 

Kit  burst  into  a  ripple  of  delicious,  infectious 
laughter.  ''Oh,  that's  the  ticket!  Well,  Tony,  my 
darling,  will  you  condescend  to  dip  your  lily  fingers 
in  this  humble  basin?  The  attar  of  roses  unfortunately 
is  'all,'  as  the  excellent  Ebenezer  Roylston  has  been 
known  to  put  it.  Permit  me  to  offer  you  a  towel." 
With  the  words  he  deftly  extracted  Jimmie's  handker- 
chief, and  thrust  it  at  Deering.  There  was  a  laugh 
and  scuffle  between  the  two  boys,  quickly  over  as  a 
distant  bell  sounded;  thfey  grabbed  their  coats,  and 
fled  unwashed  toward  the  great  dining-hall,  which 
occupied  the  same  relation  to  the  Old  School  on  the 
east  as  the  Chapel  did  on  the  west. 

"Can  you  play  football?"  asked  Kit,  as  they  ran 
along  the  terrace. 

"I  don't  know — "  began  Tony. 

"Well,  come  out  this  afternoon,  and  find  out. 
Report  to  me  in  football  togs  at  three,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  chance  on  the  Third  Form  squad." 

"Thanks  awfully." 

"Cut  that  out!  Scoot  now  after  Jimmie,  or  you'll 
be  late.  Good-boy  Bill  hates  a  laggard,  and  you're 
at  his  table." 


12  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Then  had  come  the  first  bewildering  dinner,  with 
the  myriads  of  strange  faces  about  him.  Already  he 
thought  of  Jimmie  Lawrence,  next  whom  he  sat,  as 
an  old  friend.  In  the  afternoon  he  was  carried  off 
to  the  Store  and  fitted  out  with  football  clothes,  and 
then  led  off  to  the  playing-field  back  of  the  quadrangle 
to  be  tried  out.  The  game  was  strange  to  him,  and 
he  felt  an  awkward  muff  at  it.  But  as  a  matter  of 
fact  he  was  quick  and  fleet  and  intelligent,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  afternoon.  Kit  deigned  to  pat  him  on 
the  shoulder  and  to  bid  him  reappear  on  the  morrow. 
**You  are  not  half  bad,  you  know;  for  a  land-lubber, 
so  to  speak.  Mind  you're  regular,  and  don't  eat 
toffy,  and  keep  clear  of  the  pie-house! " 

At  5  o'clock  Tony  found  himself  excused  from  after- 
noon school  by  the  Doctor's  command,  and  went 
in  to  tea  at  the  Rectory  and  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  For- 
ester— a  sweet,  motherly,  middle-aged  woman;  and 
to  two  or  three  masters,  the  sarcastic  Mr.  Gray 
amongst  them;  and  to  four  or  five  members  of  the 
noble  Sixth,  who  were  discussing  the  new  football 
material.  Tony  spent  a  pleasant  half-hour  there, 
and  after  a  talk  with,  or  rather  from,  the  Doctor  about 
Kingsbridge  and  Deal  in  the  olden  time,  he  was  sent 
back  to  the  schoolroom  and  to  afternoon  recitations. 

At  9  o'clock  he  was  dismissed  from  evening  school, 
and  the  attentive  Lawrence  steered  him  over  to 
Standerland  Hall,  where  Mr.  Morris  showed  him  the 
rooms  he  was  to  share  with  a  Fourth  Former.  This 
was  a  pleasant  little  apartment,  consisting  of  a  study 
and  two  bedrooms,  which  looked  eastward,  over 
Lovel's  Woods  and  the  Strathsey  River. 


A  HAZING  BEE  13 

"You  can  unpack  to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Morris, 
"but  you  may  take  half-an-hour  now  to  get  acquainted 
with  your  roommate." 

As  they  entered  the  room  a  tall,  lanky  youth  had 
arisen  from  a  Morris  chair.  He  had  rather  fair,  well- 
moulded  features,  a  cool  gray  eye,  a  quiet  but  some- 
what patronizing  manner,  a  drawl  to  his  speech,  and 
a  general  air  of  distinction,  not  unmingled  with  con- 
ceit. 

"This  is  Tony  Deering,  Carroll.  Tony,  allow  me 
to  present  you  to  your  roommate,  Mr.  Reginald  Carter 
Westover  Carroll,  of  Virginia." 

"Awh,  thanks,  Mr.  Morris,  for  getting  it  all  in," 
drawled  Carroll.  "How-de-do,  Deering;  pray  don't 
hesitate  to  make  yourself  at  home."  He  languidly 
extended  his  hand,  and  allowed  Tony  to  shake  it. 
"Won't  you  honor  us,  Mr.  Morris?"  he  asked,  waving 
his  hand  gracefully  in  the  direction  of  the  deep  easy 
chair. 

"No,  thank  you;  not  to-night,  Reginald.  Be  good 
enough  to  explain  to  Deering  the  simple  rules  that 
theoretically  will  govern  his  behaviour.  Lights  are 
to  be  out  at  nine- thirty.    Good-night." 

He  shook  hands  with  the  boys  cordially,  and  left 
them  alone  together.  Deering  looked  curiously  about 
him,  a  hundred  questions  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue; 
which  however  he  refrained  from  asking,  as  he  saw 
Carroll  sink  back  into  the  Morris  chair,  extract  the 
novel  that  he  had  sUpped  under  it  when  he  had  heard 
the  knock,  and  resume  reading. 

Tony  stood  for  a  moment,  a  trifle  disconcerted.  He 
was  a  Uttle  at  loss  to  know  what  might  be  the  eti- 


14  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

quette  of  such  an  occasion.  "I  say,"  he  blurted  out 
at  last,  "I  think  you  might  put  that  book  down  and 
tell  a  fellow  a  thing  or  two." 

Carroll  placed  the  book  on  the  table  at  his  side,  with 

an  air  of  mild  surprise.    ''Dear  child,"  he  murmured 

indulgently,  ''shall  we  adopt  the  Socratic  method?" 

Tony  flushed.     "What  is  the  Socratic  method?" 

"You  ask  questions;  I  answer — a  few  of  them." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  particular  questions 

to  ask.    I  supposed  we  might  find  something  to  say 

if  we  tried  hard  enough.     However,  if  you  will  tell 

me  in  which  room  I  am  to  sleep,  and  at  what  hour  we 

are  expected  to  get  up,  I  think  I  can  get  on  without 

troubUng  you  any  further." 

"  As  to  the  first  of  your  enquiries,"    the  long  languid 

youth  replied,  "as  I  happen  to  have  the  advantage 

of  being  in  the  Fourth,  and  to  have  arrived  a  day 

earUer  than  you  upon  the  scene  of  action,  I  have 

chosen  the  larger  one  to  the  right,  which  is  protected 

from  the  early  morning  sun  by  a  trifling  angle  of  the 

exterior  wall.    A  murderous  bell  will  assassinate  your 

innocent  sleep  at  seven  in  the  morning.     The  time 

that  you  arise  will  be  determined  by  the  length  of 

time  it  takes  you  to  dress  and  your  estimate  of  the 

value  of  late  marks.     Breakfast,  my  Socrates,  is  at 

half -past  seven.    Are  the  problems  too  much  for  you?' ' 

Tony  smiled.     "I  reckon  I  can  figure  them  out." 

"You   are   both   tautological   and   verbose.     The 

single    word    'reckon'    would    have    expressed    your 

meaning  quite  as  accurately  and  not  less  elegantly." 

"Oh,  I  don't  go  in  for  elegance." 

Carroll  lifted  his  eyebrows  with  an  air  of  feigned 


A  HAZING  BEE  15 

surprise,  and  surveyed  Tony  for  a  moment  or  so 
with  languid  interest.  When  it  appeared  that  his 
new  acquaintance  had  nothing  further  to  say,  the 
older  boy  leaned  his  head  wearily  back  upon  his  chair, 
and  took  up  his  book  again,  holding  it  open  with  an 
air  of  heroic  patience. 

''I  think  I'll  turn  in,"  said  Tony  at  last. 

''Ah!"  murmured  Carroll,  *'in  that  case,  I  may  bid 
you  good-night." 

Poor  Tony  was  a  httle  chilled  by  his  reception, 
and  he  flung  himself  somewhat  petulantly  out  of  the 
study  and  into  his  bedroom.  He  turned  on  the  light, 
undressed  quickly,  and  got  into  bed.  For  a  long  time 
he  lay  thinking;  first  of  Carroll,  the  elegant,  languid, 
superciUous  Carroll,  and  rebelled  with  passionate 
inner  protest  at  his  fate  in  being  cast  to  room  with 
him.  Why  had  it  not  been  Jinunie  Lawrence — clever, 
handsome,  jolly  Jimmie,  of  the  sparkhng  eyes,  and 
the  good-natured  banter?  or  the  likable  self-important 
Kit,  or  any  one  of  a  dozen  or  more  good  fellows  he 
had  run  against  that  day?  But  the  memories  of 
them  appeased  him.  He  felt  himself  lucky  to  have 
hit  it  ofif  so  well  with  such  as  they;  and  certainly  there 
was  much  about  the  school  that  he  was  going  to  like; 
and  it  was  fine  to  have  a  room  to  himself,  a  privilege 
that  he  had  learned  was  exceptionable  with  Third 
formers  and  was  supposed  to  be  due  to  a  "pull"  his 
people  had  with  the  Doctor;  and  it  was  good  luck 
to  be  under  such  a  master  as  Bill  Morris,  whom  he  had 
already  decided  was  to  be  his  favorite.  What  a  hor- 
rible fate  it  would  have  been  to  have  sat  next  at  table 
or  roomed  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Roylston — "Gumshoe 


16  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Ebenezer,"  as  the  boys  called  him!  or  to  have  had 
to  submit  to  Mr.  Gray's  sarcasm  too  often!  All 
things  considered,  he  felt  he  was  very  lucky;  and  so 
he  stifled  a  queer  feeling  of  loneliness  and  homesick- 
ness, and  turned  over  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep. 

He  had  heard  Carroll  moving  about  for  awhile, 
and  then,  as  he  thought  at  half-past  nine,  he  had 
heard  the  click  of  the  electric  light  as  it  was  turned 
off,  the  closing  of  a  study  door,  and  he  supposed  that 
Carroll  had  also  gone  to  bed. 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  later  that  he  heard  a  soft 
tapping,  repeated  once  or  twice;  then  presently  a 
movement  in  the  study,  and  the  creaking  of  a  door 
being  opened  and  closed ;  then  the  sound  of  whispering 
in  the  room  without.  Tony  sat  up  in  bed,  wide 
awake  now,  and  listened  intently.  In  a  moment  his 
bedroom  door  opened.     "Who's  that?"     he  called. 

"Shish!  be  still!  don't  make  a  sound,  or  I'll  break 
your  head."  Somebody  fumbled  with  the  switch, 
turned  the  current  on,  and  in  a  second  the  bedroom 
was  flooded  with  light.  Four  boys,  dressed  in  crimson 
and  white  jersies  and  old  trousers,  with  red  caps 
pulled  down  over  their  eyes,  crowded  into  the  room. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Tony  in  a  whisper, 
springing  out  of  bed. 

"Excellent  pupil ! "  drawled  Carroll,  at  this  moment 
thrusting  his  head  through  the  doorway,  "even  in  the 
moment  of  excitement  he  preserves  the  Socratic 
method." 

"What  do  you  want?"  Tony  repeated,  backing 
up  against  his  wall,  a  pathetic  but  sturdy  figure  in 
his  white  pajamas. 


A  HAZING  BEE  17 

"Get  into  your  clothes,  and  come  along,"  said  a 
big  fellow,  with  the  air,  real  or  assumed,  of  a  bully. 

"Where?" 

"Where  you're  bid." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  will." 

"You'll  be  hanged  if  you  won't,"  the  other  rejoined, 
advancing  toward  him  menacingly. 

"Careful,  Chapin!"  whispered  one  of  the  others,  "the 
kid '11  squeal  in  a  moment,  and  we'll  have  Bill  in 
on  us." 

"To  heck  with  Bill!  I'll  have  that  kid,  or  I'll  know 
the  reason  why!" 

"Gently,  Arthur  dear,"  murmured  Carroll.  "Never 
resort  to  force  until  persuasion  is  exhausted.  Dear 
Socrates,  we  desire  the  pleasure  of  your  company  for 
a  walk  abroad.  The  hour  is  unusual,  but  therefore 
the  greater  is  the  compliment.  My  friend  Chapin  is  im- 
petuous and  slightly  rude,  but  I  counsel  you  to  accept 
his  invitation." 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?"  asked  Tony,  stub- 
bornly. 

"Don't  ask  me  to  repeat,  I  beg  of  you.  Time  presses, 
and  the  patience  of  my  friends  is  on  the  ebb." 

"Hang  your  friends'  patience!"  exclaimed  Tony. 
"  I  won't— " 

"It  wall  hang  them,  my  child,  if  you  do  not  come. 
The  effort  to  remove  you  by  force  will  cost  them  no 
end  of  a  hanging." 

Tony  saw  that  whatever  resistence  he  might  make, 
the  kind  that  would  save  him  was  tabooed.  He  had 
only  to  make  a  noise,  of  course,  and  the  master  of  the 
house  would  come  to  his  rescue.    Intuition  told  him 


18  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

that  this  was  impossible,  as  impossible  as  also  he  felt 
it  would  be  to  submit  placidly  to  hazing.  Being 
southern,  Tony  had  his  prejudices.  An  objection  to 
interference  with  his  liberty  even  in  the  easy-going 
fashion  of  school-life  was  one  of  them.  He  decided 
at  once  that  his  protest,  however,  must  be  made  out 
of  doors,  when  all  chance  of  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  masters  was  over.  All  this  went  through  his  mind 
a  great  deal  more  quickly  than  it  can  be  told.  As  he 
made  his  decision,  he  pulled  on  his  trousers  and  a 
jersey  over  the  shirt  of  his  pajamas,  slipped  his  feet 
into  "sneakers,"  and  professed  to  be  ready. 

"  Mumm's  the  word,  through  the  corridor,"  whispered 
Chapin,  as  they  slipped  out  into  the  dark  passage-way, 
and  cautiously  felt  their  way  towards  the  stairs. 
Carroll  had  condescended  to  take  Tony's  hand,  partly 
that  he  might  guide  him  in  the  dark,  partly  to  make 
sure  that  the  boy  did  not  give  him  the  slip. 

At  last  they  emerged  upon  the  campus.  It  was 
dark  and  still.  A  late  moon  was  casting  its  waning 
light  over  the  hills  beyond  Strathsey  Neck.  The  boys, 
still  speaking  in  whispers,  led  Tony  quickly  across 
the  ghostly  campus,  and  into  a  field  below  the  chapel, 
which  sloped  down  toward  the  curving  beach  and  sea. 
As  they  evidently  meant  to  take  him  farther  still, 
Deering  pulled  back  here,  and  wrenched  his  arm  free 
of  Carroll's  grasp. 

"I  have  gone  far  enough,"  he  said.  "Tell  me  what 
you  want  of  me,  here." 

"Biff  him.  Kid,"  exclaimed  one  of  his  captors, 
in  a  voice  in  which  the  note  of  brutaUty  sounded 
painfully  real. 


A  HAZING  BEE  19 

"Nay,  nay,  gently,"  interposed  Carroll.  "Let  me 
deal  with  Socrates.  .  .  .  We  would  lead  you  to  the 
beach,  my  friend,  where  the  little  lobsters  and  the 
mermaids  play,  and  there  have  you  sing  us  songs  and 
make  us  merry  with  your  quips  and  jests;  while  we, 
from  the  recesses  of  a  certain  cave  well  known  to  us, 
extract  certain  delightful  viands,  and  feast." 

Tony  listened  patiently  to  this  speech,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  contempt  upon  his  face  that  it  was  fortunate 
his  captors  could  not  see. 

"Oh,  all  right,  Carroll,"  he  said  in  reply,  "go  ahead, 
if  you  want  to.  I  tell  you  frankly,  the  four  of  you  may 
be  able  to  beat  me  into  a  pulp,  but  you  are  not  going 
to  haze  me." 

"No?"  with  an  air  of  incredulity. 

"No." 

The  irritable  member  of  the  party  poked  Tony  in 
the  ribs  at  this  point,  and  for  his  pains  got  a  stinging 
blow  on  the  ear.  This  youth,  whose  name  was  Chapin, 
was  exceedingly  angry  at  this,  and  Tony's  fate  doubt- 
less would  have  been  settled  then  and  there,  had  not 
the  other  three  interposed,  and  restrained  Chapin's 
efforts  to  enforce  an  immediate  punishment,  protesting 
if  there  was  a  fight  now  he  would  spoil  the  fun.  After 
an  exciting  altercation,  which  nearly  resulted  in  the 
hazing  party  itself  engaging  in  a  civil  war,  peace  was 
restored  and  the  five  proceeded  toward  the  beach. 

They  walked  some  distance  along  the  sands,  which 
the  ebbing  tide  had  left  damp  and  firm,  to  a  point  a 
little  on  the  nether  side  of  a  deep  stream,  perhaps 
twenty  yards  wide,  which  divided  the  beach  from  a 
rocky  bit  of  coast  on  the  farther  side.    There  was  a 


20  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

rocky  formation  along  the  shores  of  this  stream  in 
the  shelter  of  which  Chapin  soon  indicated  the  mouth 
of  a  natural  cave  by  thrusting  his  arms  deep  into 
the  crevice,  and  then  bringing  forth  one  after  another 
several  large  tin  boxes  and  armfuls  of  fuel. 

One  boy  quickly  started  a  fire  in  the  lee  of  a  rock, 
the  flame  of  which  was  shielded  from  the  view  of  the 
school  by  the  neighboring  dunes.  The  other  three, 
leaving  Tony  for  the  moment  to  his  own  devices, 
though  they  kept  a  watch  on  him,  made  preparations 
for  a  feast.  From  the  tin  boxes  they  produced  various 
canned  stuffs,  biscuits,  sweets,  and  the  like,  while  the 
others  began  to  fry  some  sausages  in  a  skillet  over  the 
j&re.  It  was  probably  near  midnight,  and  so  thrilling 
and  so  interesting  were  these  proceedings,  that  for  the 
moment  Tony  forgot  that  he  too  was  not  one  of  them 
out  for  a  lark  and  began  to  enjoy  himself  hugely. 
Suddenly  Chapin  took  a  seat  on  a  rock,  and  calling 
to  him  sharply,  reminded  him  on  what  a  different 
status  he  was  there — a  despised  new  boy  to  be  hazed 
for  freshness.  He  wondered,  not  without  some  alarm, 
what  they  proposed  to  do  to  him. 

At  length,  just  as  Carroll  handed  up  to  Chapin  a 
nicely  done  sausage,  Tony's  principal  tormentor  turned 
to  him.  "Well,  Deering,  suppose  you  get  up  on  that  rock 
there,  and  give  us  a  sample  of  your  beautiful  southern 
voice.     We'll  have  'Louisiana  Lou,'  if  you  please." 

Tony  felt  a  cold  shiver  run  down  his  back,  but 
nevertheless  he  braced  himself  against  the  rock,  instead 
of  mounting  it,  and  faced  Chapin.  Thorndyke  and 
Marsh  drew  near,  and  Carroll  looked  up  from  where 
he  was  kneehng  at  the  fire. 


A  HAZING  BEE  21 

"Come  along  .  .  .  Nah!"  he  snarled,  in  answer  to 
some  remark  of  Carroll's,  "I  am  going  to  haze  this 
kid  to  the  limit.  Come,  step  lively  there,  Deering; 
what's  the  matter  with  you?  Crawl  up  on  that  rock, 
or  I'll  biff  you  over  the  head." 

Tony  backed  off  a  Httle.  "I  supposed  you  knew," 
he  said,  "that  I  didn't  intend  to  be  hazed  when  you 
brought  me  down  here." 

"Didn't  intend  to  be  hazed!"     cried  Thorndyke, 

a  strapping  big  chap.    "Well,  I'll  be What  did 

you  think  we  asked  you  to — a  party? 

"No,"  Tony  answered.  "But  I  came  because  I 
didn't  want  to  raise  a  rumpus  up  near  the  School, 
where  you  might  think  I  was  scared  and  trying  to 
squeal  out  of  it." 

"So  you  ain't  trying  to  squeal  now,  eh?"  asked 
Thorndyke. 

"Not  a  bit,  but  I  don't  intend  to  be  hazed  all  the 
same." 

"Why,  Socrates,  my  love,  do  you  expect  us  to  fight 
you  in  rotation  so  as  to  convince  you  of  the  fact  that 
you  are  going  to  be  hazed?"  asked  Carroll,  in  tones 
of  sarcasm. 

"Oh,  biff  him!"    cried  Chapin. 

Tony  backed  a  httle.  "I  don't  expect  you  to  fight 
me,  no,"  he  answered;  then  Hke  a  flash  he  kicked 
off  his  sneakers,  sHpped  off  his  coat,  and  cast  it  full 
into  Chapin's  face,  with  his  hands  behind  it,  sending 
him  sprawHng  over  Carroll,  and  upsetting  their  fire. 
With  a  cry,  he  leaped  upon  the  rocks  above.  "You've 
got  to  catch  me  first." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  startled  exclamations,  and 


22  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

then  all  four  started  after  him,  leaping  upon  the  rocks. 
Tony  ran  lightly  to  the  farther  side,  and  then  just  as 
Thorndyke's  face  appeared  over  the  ledge  behind,  he 
sprang  into  the  air,  off  the  rocks,  and  disappeared 
beneath  the  waters  of  Beaver  Creek. 

"Wait  till  the  little  devil  comes  up,"  cried  Marsh, 
standing  on  the  brink  of  the  rock  and  looking  at  the 
bubbling  water.  "  He'll  swim  across,  but  he  can't  get 
back  to  the  school  without  coming  this  way.  Two  of 
you  go  round  by  the  bridge.    Reggie  and  I'll  wait  here." 

Chapin  and  Marsh  started  on  a  run  for  the  bridge, 
which  spanned  the  creek  along  a  dune  road  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  beach.  Carroll  and  Thorn- 
dyke  watched  for  the  reappearance  of  Tony  on  the 
surface  of  the  creek,  but  no  Tony  reappeared.  The 
seconds  lengthened  into  minutes;  they  heard  their 
two  companions  stamping  across  the  bridge,  but  not 
a  ripple  disturbed  the  dark  waters  of  the  creek. 

''Good  heavens !  what's  become  of  him? "  whispered 
Thorndyke. 

"Nothing!"  Carroll  responded  irritably.  "Watch 
the  opposite  bank." 

In  a  moment  more  Chapin  and  Marsh  were  on  the 
other  side.    "Have  you  seen  him?"  they  called. 

"He  hasn't  come  up  yet,"  Chapin  answered,  in  an 
agitated  voice. 

"Hasn't  come  up  yet!  Then  I'm  going  in  after  him!" 
and  with  the  words  Marsh  plunged  into  the  stream. 
He  floundered  about  for  a  moment  or  so,  diving  here 
and  there,  but  in  four  or  five  minutes  crawled  to  shore 
exhausted.  The  others  had  investigated  the  bank 
to  the  bridge. 


"<i- 
'>%'■' 


■  ^  f  >«Sb.*^^'  ••  J  -"^1^^ 


s*^ 


-"^^' 


A  HAZING  BEE  23 

"He  must  have  swum  up  stream,"  suggested  Marsh. 

"He  hasn't  come  up  to  the  surface,  you  ass!"  said 
Carroll.  "Do  you  think  he  can  swim  a  hundred  yards 
under  water?  " 

"What  then  do  you  think  we  are  going  to  do?"  he 
asked,  in  ghastly  tones. 

"Why  two  of  us  are  going  up  to  Doctor  Forester, 
and  two  are  going  to  stay  here  and  keep  watch." 

"You  don't  thmk.  .  .  ." 

"What,  in  heaven's  name,  can  we  think?" 

Carroll  and  Marsh  started  on  a  run  up  the  beach, 
leaving  their  two  companions  crouched  on  the  rocks, 
peering  down  fearsomely  into  the  stream.  The  night 
seemed  to  them  to  grow  colder,  darker,  more  dismal. 
The  moon  in  fact  had  set. 

"By  Jove,  this  is  rum!"  Thorndyke  choked,  in 
a  grisly  effort  to  seem  at  ease. 

"It's  ghastly,  Harry,"  whispered  Chapin,  as  he  put 
his  hand  on  the  other  boy's  arm. 


CHAPTER  III 


PAX 


It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  we  share  the  fright  of 
the  four  hazers.  Tony  of  course  was  not  drowned, 
nor  indeed  at  any  time  had  he  been  in  danger.  He  had 
not  lived  on  a  Mississippi  bayou  for  the  greater  part 
of  his  life  in  vain.  He  was  an  excellent  swimmer, 
and  he  had  the  knack  to  an  unusual  degree  of  swim- 
ming under  water  a  long  distance. 

When  Chapin  had  first  advanced  upon  him,  he 
had  intended  to  fight,  but  he  realized  at  once  that 
such  a  course  would  be  foolish,  for  he  would  inevitably 
be  conquered,  and  forced  in  the  long  run  to  go  through 
the  ''stunts  "  even  in  a  more  unpleasant  fashion  than 
if  he  submitted  at  once.  He  had,  however,  no  intention 
of  submitting  so  long  as  he  saw  any  possibility  of  a  way 
out  of  the  situation.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that 
by  jumping  into  the  creek  and  swimming  for  some 
distance  under  water,  he  might  get  a  start  in  the 
way  of  escape  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  his  pur- 
suers to  make  up.  In  this  way  the  hazing  might  be 
avoided  for  the  night  at  least,  and  on  the  morrow  he 
could  take  counsel  as  to  the  future  with  some  of  his 
new-found  allies. 

No  sooner,  did  he  think  of  this  stratagem  than  he 
acted  upon  it.    As  we  have  seen,  it  proved  even  more 

24 


**PAX"  25 

successful  than  he  had  expected  or  hoped.  The 
creek  was  quite  deep  enough  for  him  to  swim  a  con- 
siderable distance  beneath  the  surface.  He  headed 
up  stream,  and  kept  under  water  to  the  limit  of  his 
endurance.  Then,  instead  of  coming  to  the  surface 
in  the  splashing,  sputtering  fashion  of  the  amateur, 
he  came  so  far  up  as  to  thrust  only  his  face  above 
the  waters  for  breath.  So  careful  were  his  move- 
ments that  the  anxious  watchers  did  not  detect  him 
even  at  this  moment.  A  second  time  he  went  below, 
swimming  beneath  the  surface  for  some  yards,  until 
he  emerged  again,  this  time  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  bridge.  A  few  strokes  brought  him  to  this 
hiding-place,  and  he  had  scarcely  ensconced  himself 
there,  clinging  to  one  of  the  heavy  wooden  supports, 
when  he  heard  Chapin  and  Marsh  rushing  across 
the  planks  above  his  head.  He  could  tell  by  their 
tones  of  alarm,  as  they  talked  farther  down  the  bank, 
that  they  thought  he  had  drowned.  He  heard  one 
of  them  jump  into  the  creek  and  splash  vainly  about 
for  some  moments,  and  at  last  he  heard  two  of  them 
depart,  and  saw  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  other 
two,  as  they  returned  disconsolate  to  wait  by  the 
rocks. 

In  about  five  minutes  Tony  crawled  out  from  his 
hiding-place  beneath  the  bridge.  He  was  shivering 
with  the  cold,  but  otherwise  not  the  worse  for  his 
long  immersion.  He  ran  softly  along  the  dune  road, 
about  a  hundred  yards  or  so  behind  Carroll  and 
Marsh  on  their  way  to  the  school.  He  followed 
them  at  a  safe  distance  across  the  meadows  and  the 
campus,  and  watched  them  as  they  rang  the  bell  of 


26  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  Head  Master's  house.  Then  he  hurried  off  to 
his  own  room  in  Standerland,  sHpped  off  his  wet 
clothes,  and  got  into  bed.  A  Httle  alarm  as  to  his 
safety  on  the  part  of  his  would-be  tormentors,  he 
thought,  would  be  a  just  bit  of  revenge,  particularly 
against  the  supercilious  Carroll. 

While  Deering  lay  comfortably  in  bed,  rapidly 
recovering  in  body  and  spirit,  the  two  conspirators 
had  a  mournful  few  minutes  as  they  explained  matters 
to  Doctor  Forester,  who  had  thrust  his  head  and  his 
pyjama'd  shoulders  out  of  an  upper  window. 

The  Head  Master  listened  to  their  frightened 
explanations.  "Very  well,"  he  said  at  length,  "I 
will  dress  at  once.  In  the  meantime,  one  of  you  go 
quickly  over  to  Standerland  and  see  if  by  any  chance 
he  has  returned  there.  It  is  possible  that  there  has 
been  a  serious  accident,  but  I  think  it  much  more 
likely  that  he  has  simply  outwitted  you.  I  trust 
that  is  the  case.  Report  to  me  immediately."  And 
with  that  the  Doctor  closed  his  window  sash  with  a 
bang. 

With  his  heart  in  his  mouth  Carroll  ran  across 
the  quadrangles  to  Standerland  House,  resolving 
with  more  passion  than  he  customarily  allowed  him- 
self that  the  Head  had  shown  himself  a  brute.  He 
felt  his  way  along  the  dark  corridor,  still  cautious, 
although  convinced  that  it  was  but  a  matter  of 
moments  when  the  whole  school  must  be  alarmed. 
He  always  recalled  that  walk  upstairs  as  one  of  the 
most  disagreeable  quarters  of  an  hour  of  his  life.  At 
last  he  found  his  door,  entered  his  study,  and  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  switched  on  the  light.    Then  he 


"PAX"  27 

cautiously  opened  the  door  into  Tony's  bedroom, 
and  gave  a  frightful  start  as  he  saw  the  boy  sitting 
up  in  bed.  But  Carroll  was  not  one  to  betray  more 
than  momentary  surprise.  He  gave  Tony  a  long 
curious  look,  sufficiently  assured  after  the  first  glance 
that  he  was  not  a  ghost.  ''So,  my  Socrates,"  he  said, 
"you  are  back?  " 

"It  would  seem  so,"  answered  Tony  dryly,  and  as 
the  older  boy  thought,  impertinently. 

"One  wondered,  you  know,"  Carroll  remarked 
quietly,  as  he  turned  off  the  light   and  left  the  room. 

In  five  minutes  he  was  back  at  the  Head  Master's 
house,  "  Deering  is  in  bed,  sir,"  he  reported  to  the 
non-committal  head  at  the  upper  window. 

"Good;  I  thought  so.  Do  you  go  now  after  your 
companions  on  the  beach.  Return  at  once;  get  back 
into  bed  as  quietly  as  you  got  out  of  it,  and  the  four 
of  you  report  to  me  to-morrow  morning  after  prayers. 
I  fancy  that  whether  or  not  you  become  the  laughing 
stock  of  the  school  will  depend  entirely  upon  your- 
selves.   Good-night!" 

"Good-night,  sir." 

Carroll  had  lost  but  a  trifle  of  his  suavity  during 
this  nocturnal  adventure.  He  hurried  off  now  to 
the  beach,  and  explained  the  situation  to  Thorndyke 
and  Chapin,  who  were  so  rejoiced  to  learn  that  they 
had  not  been  the  cause  of  an  involuntary  suicide  that 
they  forgot  to  be  annoyed  with  Tony  for  outwitting 
them.  It  was  a  cold  and  dejected  trio  of  boys  that 
stowed  away  the  remains  of  the  unen joyed  feast, 
and  then  betook  themselves  up  the  hill,  crept  silently 
into  their  dormitories,  and  went  to  bed. 


28  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

On  the  morrow  they  were  excused  from  first  study 
and  reported  to  the  Head  Master.  To  their  surprise 
Doctor  Forester  had  very  little  to  say  to  them.  "I 
had  intended  to  give  you  a  lecture,"  he  said,  looking 
up  from  his  writing  and  without  laying  down  his  pen, 
"and  probably  a  severe  punishment,  but  I  fancy  you 
have  learned  a  lesson.  .  .  .  You  can  see,  at  least, 
to  what  the  hazing  of  a  high-spirited  boy  might 
lead.  ...  I  understand  your  ideas  about  hazing. 
I  do  not  share  them.  I  believe  that  you  will  not 
disappoint  me  when  I  say  that  I  expect  the  practice 
to  stop  from  this  day." 

"Quite  so,  sir,"  said  Thorndyke. 

"And  that  is  all,"  added  the  Doctor,  giving  them 
a  nod  of  dismissal. 

"Phew!"  exclaimed  Chapin,  as  they  entered  the 
corridor,  "that's  sliding  out  easy." 

"Rather,"  answered  Thorndyke,  "unless  we  have 
the  whole  school  howling  at  us  when  the  kid  squeals." 

"Which  he's  sure  to  do,"  suggested  Marsh. 

Carroll  withered  them  with  a  glance.  "I  rather 
fancy  not,"  he  drawled.  "He's  a  southerner  and  a 
gentleman." 

"Well,  let's  hope  not,"  interposed  Thorndyke.  .  .  . 
"  There,  don't  get  huffy,  Harry,  you  can't  help  com- 
ing from  Chicago." 

"Who  wants  to  help  it,  you  big  cow?"  cried  Marsh, 
giving  his  chum  Thorndyke  a  good-natured  push 
against  the  wall.  "But  if  I  thought,  as  Carroll  does, 
that  there  were  not  any  gentlemen  north  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line,  I  wouldn't  come  to  a  northern  school." 

"Rot!"  vouchsafed  Carroll.    "Let's  whoop  her  up 


"PAX"  29 

for  Gumshoe,  and  avoid  any  daffy  questions  about 
being  quizzled  by  the  Head." 


Tony  found  it  difficult  the  next  day  not  to  take 
Jimmie  Lawrence  or  Kit  Wilson  into  his  confidence, 
and  tell  them  of  his  adventure  of  the  night  before. 
But  he  conquered  the  temptation,  for  he  was  sin- 
gularly incapable  of  enjoying  himself  at  the  expense 
of  any  one's  else  discomfiture.  Tony  was  not  without 
his  faults,  as  we  shall  see,  but  he  genuinely  disliked 
to  make  other  people  uncomfortable.  Perhaps  this 
was  an  inheritance  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors  who 
had  had  rather  nice  ideas  about  what  constitutes 
a  gentleman.  At  any  rate,  he  was  born  that  way, 
and  did  not  deserve  any  special  credit  for  it.  He 
realized  that  if  he  told  his  story  he  might  easily  make 
his  three  captors  the  butts  of  the  school,  but  that  was 
not  a  form  of  revenge  that  appealed  to  him.  Accord- 
ingly he  held  his  peace,  and  if  it  had  depended  on  him 
the  story  never  would  have  been  told.  But  we  may 
say  in  passing,  that  eventually  Carroll  told  the  tale 
himself:  it  entered  into  the  body  of  Deal  tradition, 
and  is  frequently  told  by  old  Deal  boys  when  hazing 
is  a  subject  of  conversation. 

Tony  felt  almost  familiar  with  the  schoolroom  as 
he  entered  after  prayers  the  next  morning.  A  score 
of  faces  were  now  known  to  him,  and  so  many  had 
seemed  friendly  as  he  looked  into  them,  that  the 
homesick  feeling  and  the  alarm  of  the  night  be- 
fore rapidly  passed  away.  Occasionally  he  noticed 
Mr.  Morris's  glance  resting  upon  him,  as  he  sat  at 


30  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

his  books  during  the  day,  in  a  particularly  interested 
and  friendly  way.  There  was  something  in  Morris's 
face — an  attractiveness,  perhaps  one  would  call  it, 
for  he  was  not  precisely  handsome — a  winningness 
in  the  directness  of  his  glance,  that  more  than  once 
had  won  boys  at  almost  first  sight.  Morris  had  the 
genius  of  inspiring  enthusiasms,  and  he  was  to  inspire 
one  in  Tony.  The  master  was  soon  to  hear  from 
Carroll  the  inwardness  of  Tony's  exploits,  and  marvel 
with  him  at  the  boy's  ''whiteness"  in  not  talking. 
Mr.  Morris  was  the  occasional  recipient  of  the  inti- 
mate confidences  of  the  supercilious  Virginian,  for 
even  Carroll  had  moments  of  weakness  when  he  felt 
the  need  of  unburdening  himself  and  receiving 
sympathy — moments,  as  he  would  have  said,  when 
he  was  not  himself. 

As  the  day  wore  on  Tony  was  inclined  to  forget 
his  unpleasant  adventure  of  the  night  before.  The 
afternoon  found  him  again  on  the  football  field, 
absorbed  in  learning  the  game,  and  winning  encomiums 
in  the  eyes  of  Kit,  who  until  Thanksgiving  would  have 
few  thoughts  aside  from  football.  Kit  was  captain 
of  his  form  eleven,  and  his  interest  in  its  success  was 
equaled  only  by  the  readiness  with  which  he  would 
sacrifice  his  best  players  to  the  school  team  or  even 
to  the  scrub  if  they  were  needed.  He  was  delighted 
with  Deering's  advent,  as  he  had  felt  he  was  weak  in 
ends,  and  Tony's  fleetness  promised  much  in  that 
direction. 

T'he  likelihood  of  his  securing  a  position  on  his 
form  team  gave  Deering  a  prestige  that  stood  him 
in  good  stead  as  a  new  boy;  and  as  he  was  lively, 


"PAX"  31 

good-natured  and  appreciative,  it  seemed  that  on 
the  whole  he  would  have  an  agreeable  time. 

There  was,  however,  a  rift  in  the  lute — ^which  Tony 
detected  the  second  day  of  his  school  life.  As  he 
would  pass  Chapin  in  the  Schoolhouse  corridors  or 
on  the  campus,  he  could  see  by  the  expression  on  his 
face  that  he  had  taken  the  result  of  their  adventures 
of  the  night  before  in  bad  part.  They  exchanged 
no  words  on  the  subject,  but  Chapin's  behavior  was  in 
such  contrast  to  that  of  Thorndyke  and  Marsh,  or 
even  of  Carroll,  all  of  whom  had  smiled  good-naturedly 
when  they  had  met  him,  that  he  put  it  down  that  in 
Chapin  he  had  made  an  enemy.  At  the  time  this 
troubled  him  very  little.  He  wondered  of  course 
if  he  should  be  hazed  again,  but  surmised  correctly 
that  if  he  were  it  would  not  be  by  the  same  crowd. 

The  spirit  with  which  he  went  into  things,  his 
success  on  the  form  team,  and  the  powerful  friends 
that  he  had  made  in  Wilson  and  Lawrence,  the  leaders 
of  the  Third,  soon  secured  him  an  immunity  from 
hazing  in  any  form.  The  Sixth  frowned  on  the  custom, 
so  that  none  but  adventurous  spirits  were  apt  to 
attempt  it. 

Tony  was  tired  out  that  night,  and  as  soon  as  he 
was  dismissed  from  the  schoolroom  at  nine  o'clock, 
he  ran  over  to  Standerland  and  got  into  bed,  scarcely 
noticing  Carroll,  who  had  the  privilege  of  working 
in  their  common  study.  Hardly,  however,  was  he  in 
bed,  than  the  door  was  opened,  his  light  switched  on, 
and  again  Carroll  appeared,  but  this  time  there  was 
a  friendly  grin  on  his  face,  and  a  box  of  biscuit  and 
a  jar  of  jam  tucked  under  his  arm. 


32  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Don't  jump,  my  philosopher!"  he  exclaimed, 
"I  am  alone  and  unarmed."  Then  he  advanced  to 
the  bed,  and  held  out  his  hand.  ''Shall  we  make  it 
'pax'?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  laughed  Tony,  and  gave 
Carroll's  hand  a  friendly  shake. 

"Suppose  then  we  smoke  a  pipe  of  peace,"  and 
Carroll  extracted  from  the  recesses  of  his  pocket  two 
brierwood  pipes. 

"Hang  it!"  said  Tony,  "I  don't  smoke,  you  know. 
Aren't  you  afraid  of  getting  caught?" 

"Oh,  yes,  somewhat,"  answered  Carroll,  as  he  non- 
chalantly lighted  a  match.  "But  what  will  you  have? 
School  bores  me  to  extinction.  I  find  myself  within 
two  days  craving  nefarious  excitement.  You  are  for- 
tunate to  possess  a  calmer  temperament.  Here,  help 
yourself  to  the  jam  and  biscuit." 

"You  seem  calm  enough,"  commented  Tony. 

"I  assume  that,  little  one,  for  amusement,  I  am  in 
reality  excitable  to  a  degree.  Now  take  that  incident 
last  night — " 

"Oh,  let's  drop  that,"  said  Tony. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  should  like  to  discuss  it.  I 
was  rather  a  beast  to  go  in  for  it,  you  know,  when 
you  had  been,  as  it  were,  put  in  my  tender  care.  It 
was  the  fun  of  doing  something  that  one  knew  would 
get  one  into  trouble  if  one  were  caught.  You  behaved 
in  a  singular  fashion,  I  must  confess,  and  lamentably 
upset  our  little  calculations.  Somehow,  after  blowing 
the  business  to  the  Head  the  joy  of  the  affair  was 
gone.  I  felt  like  a  sick  cat  when  I  crawled  into  bed 
at  one  a.  m." 


"PAX"  33 

"What  happened?"  asked  Tony. 

Carroll  took  a  deep  pull  at  his  pipe,  and  blew  the 
smoke  out  of  the  window.  ''Old  Hawk  laughed  at  us, 
and  sent  us  to  bed  as  though  we  were  First  Formers. 
Say,  it  was  rather  decent  of  you,  you  know,  not  to 
peach  to  the  fellows." 

"How  do  you  know  I  didn't?" 

"Well,  we've  escaped  the  jolly  horsing  we'd  have 
got  if  you  had,  that's  all.  .  .  .  Do  you  know,  I  approve 
of  that, — well,  to  a  degree.  Confound  it!  there's  cur- 
few. Lie  still,  I'll  souse  the  light.  I  guess  we're 
safe  enough.  Bill  saw  us  both  in,  and  he  isn't  one  to 
nose  about  after  lights  unless  there's  a  beastly  noise. 
Bill  is  such  a  gentleman  that  one  hates  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  his  considerateness, — like  this!"  And  he 
blew  a  puff  of  smoke  into  Tony's  face. 

"Why  do  you  do  it  then?" 

Carroll  got  up  and  turned  out  the  light;  then 
resumed  his  seat  on  Tony's  bed. 

"Why  do  I?  Hang  it,  Deering,  I  sometimes  wonder 
why  I  do  a  number  of  things.  I've  a  great  notion 
to  chuck  it." 

Tony  had  the  good  sense  to  make  no  reply  to  this 
remark,  but  to  munch  instead  with  rather  unctious 
enjoyment  on  his  biscuit  and  jam.  Carroll  seemed 
to  meditate  for  the  moment  in  the  dark,  then  knocked 
his  ashes  out  on  the  window-sill,  and  leaned  over, 
feeling  for  the  jar.  "Where  the  deuce  is  the  biscuit? 
That  jam  is  the  real  article,  you  know.  There  is  a 
great  gulf  between  the  jam  I  use  and  what  one  gets 
in  the  refectory.  Would  that  in  that  gulf  we  might 
souse  the  housekeeper,  eh?  " 


34  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

And  so  they  talked  the  shop  and  jargon,  the  boyish 
confidences,  and  experiences,  and  plans,  that  have 
been  the  theme  of  nocturnal  talks  ever  since  schools 
were  invented.  It  was  quite  late  before  Carroll 
returned  to  his  bedroom,  and  Tony  immediately 
dropped  to  sleep,  feeling  that  after  all  he  had  mis- 
judged him  upon  first  appearances.  His  next  con- 
scious thought  was  as  he  leaped  to  his  feet  in  answer 
to  the  strident  tones  of  the  rising  bell. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MICHAELMAS  TERM 

This  late  talk  with  Carroll  did  more  toward  putting 
Tony  at  his  ease  in  the  school  than  perhaps  anything 
that  happened  to  him.  From  that  time  on  he  became 
very  friendly  with  his  room-mate — all  the  better  friends 
doubtless  because  they  always  maintained  toward  each 
other  a  certain  reserve,  due  rather  to  Carroll's  involun- 
tary elaborateness  of  manner  than  to  any  deliberate 
effort  on  their  part.  All  the  better  also  was  it  that  real 
as  was  their  mutual  regard  for  each  other  neither  had 
that  enthusiastic  affection  that  school  boys  so  fre- 
quently experience,  and  of  which  Tony  was  already 
aware  in  another  direction.  For  just  such  a  friendship 
quickly  developed  between  him  and  Jimmie  Lawrence. 

He  has  missed  one  of  the  purest  joys  of  life  who  has 
not  known  the  delights  of  an  enthusiastic  boyish  friend- 
ship. It  has  its  sweetnesses,  its  fears  and  scruples,  as 
has  every  other  love;  but  there  is  a  cloudless  carelessness 
about  its  happy  days  as  about  no  other  period  of  Ufe. 
For  Tony,  in  that  first  Indian  summer  at  Deal  to 
wander  off  from  the  common  fields  with  Jimmie  Law- 
rence, into  unfamiliar  haunts,  into  the  enchanted  re- 
gion of  Lovel's  Woods,  or  along  the  rocky  kelp-strewn 
shores  of  the  Strathsey  River  or  the  tawny  beaches 
of  the  Neck,  was  a  joy  pure  and  unalloyed. 

35 


36  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Among  others  Carroll  watched  the  development  of 
this  friendship  with  interest.  Carroll  Yi^as  not  the 
sort  to  give  his  affection  quickly  in  such  whole-hearted 
fashion,  though  he  cared  deeply  enough  about  things, 
he  thought.  He  neither  approved  nor  disapproved  of 
his  room-mate's  devotion  to  Jimmie,  certainly  was  not 
jealous  of  it.  If  such  things  must  be — he  had  a  way 
of  smiling  with  his  assumed  air  of  cynicism  when 
friendship  was  mentioned — why  he  supposed  Jimmie 
Lawrence  was  as  worthy  of  Tony's  devotion  as  the 
next  boy.  Carroll  never  spoke  of  this  friendship  to 
Tony,  but  tactfully  began  to  welcome  Jimmie  as  a 
visitor  to  their  rooms  during  that  fall  term.  To  his 
own  form-mates  he  referred  to  his  study  as  ''the 
kindergarten."  He  did,  however,  speak  unusually 
frankly  to  Tony  of  another  friendship  which  that 
youth  appeared  to  have  made.  They  had  wandered 
toward  the  beach  one  evening.  Football  practice 
was  just  over;  Tony  had  had  his  bath  and  was  glowing 
a  beautiful  pink  and  white  in  the  soft  air  of  the  Indian 
summer  twilight. 

''Do  you  know,"  said  Carroll,  flecking  at  the 
pebbles  in  the  sands,  as  they  stopped  at  the  creek, 
"that  you  have  made  a  great  hit  with  our  beloved 
Bill?" 

Tony  laughed.  "Bill's  made  a  great  hit  with  me, 
I  may  say.     But  doubtless  that's  plain  enough." 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  answered  Carroll  who  was  used 
to  boys  liking  Mr.  Morris,  "but  it  has  never  been 
evident  before  that  Bill  has  particularly  cared  for  one 
of  us  rather  than  for  another;  he  has  been  extraordina- 
rily decent  to  everyone  with  whom  he  has  to  do, 


MICHAELMAS  TERM  37 

just  as  Gumshoe  has  been  extraordinarily  odious. 
For  myself,  I  have  always  disliked  intensely  the 
attitude  that  most  school  masters  think  it  expedient 
to  assume — to  wit,  a  sort  of  official  consciousness  of 
a  universal  in  loco  parentis,  a  grim  determination  to 
make  people  think  every  boy  is  liked  just  in  the 
same  way,  which  we  know  is  impossible,  and  as  un- 
desirable as  it  is  unreal.  Witness,  Gumshoe  really 
makes  me  grateful  to  him,  despite  his  native  hideous- 
ness,  because  he  never  addresses  me  without  a  sar- 
castic snarl  or  an  odious  grin  as  though  I  were  amusing 
him.    One  understands  that  amusement." 

''Oh,  quite,"  said  Tony,  absently. 

Reggie  did  not  like  these  little  interjections  in  his 
monologue.  ''Don't  assume  to  be  paying  attention," 
he  commented  now.  "I  know  of  course  that  you  are 
not  until  I  get  back  to  you.  Don't  think  it  necessary 
to  assent.  I  am  accustomed  to  talking  without 
being  listened  to." 

"Oh,  dry  up,  Reggie,  go  on  with  Bill — what  about 
him?" 

"Ah,  I  thought  our  curiosity  had  been  aroused. 
This,  little  one;  he  had  succeeded  better  than  most 
people  in  liking  a  good  many  fellows,  with  the  result 
of  course  that  the  fellows  really  like  him.  But,  for 
you,  his  liking  is  more  patent  than  usual.  I  congratu- 
late you — not  to  say,  I  envy  you." 

"Nonsense,"  began  Tony. 

"Cultivate  him,  my  boy." 

"Oh,  I  mean  to  do  that,"  Deering  answered.  "Tell 
me,  do  you  like  Mr.  Morris,  Reggie;  you're  such  a — " 

"Ij  oh  I  adore  him, — in  my  way;  but  even  so  much 


38  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

is  between  you  and  me.  He  is  a  demi-god,  the  super- 
man. As  for  me,  I  amuse  him,  interest  him,  baffle 
him  a  little,  I  hope;  but  he  will  never  be  fond  of 
me.  It  will  be  a  relief  to  Bill  when  I  get  out  of  his 
house." 

"Don't  you  think  it's  just  that  he's  never  been  sure 
whether  or  not  he  could  trust  you?"  asked  Tony. 

Carroll  for  once  started.  ''Trust  me?  Good  heavens, 
Deering,  I  imagine  the  man  takes  me  for  a  gentleman." 

''Oh,  of  course,  that — I  meant  rather  in  other  ways; 
if  he  counts  on  you  to  help  out.  ..." 

"Oh!"  Carroll  exclaimed,  with  a  tone  of  relief, 
"I  dare  say  not.  ...  I  dare  say  not.  .  .  ."  And 
for  a  while  he  seemed  to  think  rather  seriously. 
Tony  wondered  to  himself  how  he  had  happened  to 
stumble  on  what  doubtless  was  a  sore  spot  with  his 
room-mate  in  his  relation  to  the  house-master.  As  for 
Carroll's  talk  about  Mr.  Morris's  good  opinion,  Tony 
only  took  that  half  seriously.  He  hoped  it  was  true, 
of  course.  Tony  liked  to  be  liked,  as  perhaps  most 
people  do. 

Those  were  really  golden  days  for  him,  which  he  was 
always  to  recall  with  a  peculiar  sense  of  pleasure. 
He  was  consciously  happier  than  he  had  ever  been 
before,  because  often  at  home  there  had  been  certain 
family  shadows  that  dimmed  the  day.  Life  went 
well  with  him  that  first  fall  term.  He  seemed  to 
catch  the  spirit  of  the  school  almost  by  intuition; 
indeed,  as  he  said  to  himself  one  afternoon  as  he  stood 
on  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  Old  School,  looking  down 
across  the  sloping  meadows,  past  the  ochre-colored 
beach,  out  upon  Deigr  Rock  and  a  quivering  ocean, 


MICHAELMAS  TERM  39 

it  was  in  his  blood :  it  was  his  inheritance  and  tradition 
to  be  a  part  of  and  to  love  Deal  School. 

He  was  quick  and  sensible  enough  to  keep  his 
classroom  work  up  to  the  average,  and  though  he  did 
not  distinguish  himself  as  a  scholar,  he  suffered  very- 
little  from  detention  or  pensums,  those  popular  devices 
for  the  torture  of  the  dull  and  the  lazy.  He  had  his 
long  afternoons  free;  save  for  football.  And  football 
in  that  day,  under  what  Tony  ever  felt  was  a  wise 
dispensation  of  the  Head's,  was  never  allowed  to 
absorb  more  than  an  hour,  except  when  a  game  was 
on.  As  it  was,  he  always  had  a  good  hour  or  so  of  day- 
light in  which  with  a  congenial  companion, — Jimmie, 
or  Kit,  or  Carroll,  often, — he  could  explore  the  sur- 
rounding country.  And  this  for  Tony  soon  became 
the  most  fascinating  way  of  spending  his  time.  Before 
the  Michaelmas  term  was  over  he  had  got  to  know 
every  path  and  by-way  for  five  miles  roundabout. 
To  a  boy  who  had  eyes  as  well  as  wits  there  was  a 
plenty  to  interest  him  in  the  region  about  Deal; — 
the  bold  and  varied  shore,  with  its  rocks  and  beaches, 
its  coves  and  caves,  its  points  and  necks,  the  abode 
of  wild  fowl  of  the  sea;  the  rolling  fertile  country  to 
the  north;  Lovel's  Woods;  the  quiet  waters  of  Deal 
Great  Pond;  the  quaint  streets  of  the  old  town  of 
Monday  Port,  with  its  rotting  wharves  and  empty 
harbor. 

This  strange  old  town,  despite  everywhere  the 
lingering  touch  of  the  summer  invasion,  with  its 
suggestion  of  a  vanished  trade,  in  the  winter  was 
bereft  of  all  save  its  memories  of  a  bygone  order  of 
things;  and  with  these  memories,  to  an  imaginative 


40  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

boy,  the  town  seemed  heavy.  It  required  a  special 
permission  and  a  good  excuse  for  any  of  the  schoolboys, 
except  the  Sixth,  to  get  the  freedom  of  its  streets. 
Tony  was  especially  keen  for  such  excuses  and  such 
freedom.  His  first  walk  there  had  been  with  Mr.  Mor- 
ris, who  seemed  to  know  the  intimate  stories  of  its 
houses,  to  be  familiar  with  all  its  little  secrets.  In 
less  conventional  conversations  Tony  planned  esca- 
pades for  that  direction;  but  as  yet  nothing  very  definite 
suggested  itself.  The  penalties  for  being  caught  in 
Monday  Port  without  the  good  excuse  were  considered 
excessive  and  usually  not  worth  the  risk.  Mr.  Morris 
had  a  glorious  tale  of  the  days  when  he  was  a  schoolboy 
at  Deal,  of  the  actual  exodus  from  the  school  by 
night  of  the  whole  Fifth,  the  boarding  of  a  schooner 
that  had  lain  dreaming  in  the  sleepy  harbor  for  a  day 
or  so,  a  thrilling  sail  into  the  open,  and  the  overhauling 
of  the  pirate  crew  by  the  Head  in  a  steam-launch. 
Those  were  the  good  old  days  of  birching,  and  yes, 
Mr.  Morris  had  caught  it.  He  had  smiled  at  the 
memory  as  if  it  were  a  pleasant  one. 

Golden  days  that  more  and  more  took  the  aspect 
of  holidays  as  midst  school  strain  and  throbbing 
excitement,  they  drew  near  the  day  of  the  ''great 
game "  with  Boxford,  the  rival  school  across  the 
Smoke  mountains. 

It  had  seemed  possible  for  some  time  that  Tony 
might  make  end  on  the  School  team.  Mr.  Stenton, 
the  athletic  director,  though  he  had  a  vigorous 
way  of  finding  fault,  forever  threatening  the  boys 
with  defeat  and  the  benches  and  fines,  secretly  re- 
garded Deering  as  a  ''find."     He  had  watched  his 


MICHAELMAS  TERM  41 

play  for  a  week  or  two  on  Kit  Wilson's  Third  Eorm 
team;  saw  that  he  was  green  but  teachable,  and  jiidged 
that  he  was  one  of  the  swiftest  runners  that  had  ever 
come  to  Deal.  The  end  of  the  first  month  found 
Tony  a  member  of  the  School  squad. 

To  the  old  boys  it  seemed  almost  ''fresh"  that  a 
newcomer  should  be  able  to  play  football  so  much 
better  than  they,  and  to  be  a  greenhorn  at  that! 
But  Jack  Stenton  knew  his  business;  he  was  an  old 
Kingsbridge  man,  and  he  had  played  on  the  Kings- 
bridge  eleven  in  the  very  earliest  days  of  American 
football,  when  it  was  a  very  different  game  indeed. 
And  Stenton  made  up  his  mind  that  Tony  eventually 
should  make  the  Kingsbridge  eleven.  Deal  boys  had 
not  been  taking  many  places  on  Kingsbridge  teams 
of  recent  years,  which  was  a  matter  of  real  grief 
to  the  faithful  coach.  Stenton,  however,  was  the 
last  man  in  the  world  to  give  a  boy  a  good  opinion 
of  himself,  so  that  he  pretended  to  hold  out  to  Tony 
but  the  smallest  hope.  ''You  may  squeeze  into  shape," 
he  would  say,  "but  I  doubt  it."  And  in  truth  he  was 
averse  to  playing  a  new  boy  in  a  big  game;  so  that  up 
to  the  eve  of  the  Boxford  game  the  line-up  was  in 
doubt.  Tony  had  a  vigorous  rival  for  his  position, 
in  Henry  Marsh,  one  of  the  members  of  the  hazing- 
bee  of  the  first  few  nights  at  Deal.  Marsh  was  quick ; 
Tony  was  quicker;  but  Marsh  had  the  advantage 
of  knowing  the  game,  and  clever  as  Tony  was  proving 
himself,  he  nevertheless  was  a  greenhorn. 

His  promotion  to  the  school  squad  did  a  great  deal 
for  Deering  in  the  way  of  increasing  his  popularity. 
Kit  Wilson  no  longer  patronized  him;  on  the  other 


42  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

hand  he  was  rather  proud  of  Tony's  friendship,  and 
took  a  good  deal  of  credit  to  himself  for  having  dis- 
covered him.  He  proposed  Deering  for  membership  in 
the  Dealonian,  a  semi-secret  society  that  took  a  great 
deal  of  credit  to  itself  for  the  smooth  and  successful 
running  of  the  School.  Membership  in  it  was  an 
honor,  which  a  new  boy  rarely  achieved.  It  was 
enough  to  have  turned  our  friend's  head,  but  he 
was  singularly  not  a  self-conscious  youth,  and  to 
this  it  was  due  that  his  quick  success  aroused  so 
little  jealousy.  Tony  had  the  quality  of  lovableness 
to  a  marked  degree,  which  is  after  all  a  quality;  it 
was  what  won  him  at  college  in  later  years  the  nick- 
name of  "Sunshine,"  a  famous  nickname  in  the  annals 
of  Kingsbridge,  as  Kingsbridgeans  know — but  that's 
another  story. 

In  all  the  unexpected  happiness  of  the  term  there 
was  for  Tony  nevertheless  the  inevitable  rift  in  the 
lute.  Chapin  was  still  sulky  toward  him;  and  he 
could  see  beneath  a  rather  elaborate  courtesy,  that 
Henry  Marsh,  Chapin's  particular  crony,  was  any- 
thing but  friendly.  This  lack  of  friendliness  became 
so  noticeable  to  Carroll  that  despite  his  intimacy 
with  the  two,  he  began  to  draw  somewhat  away  from 
them.  Carroll  thought  that  they  had  singularly 
failed  to  appreciate  Tony's  ''whiteness"  in  saving 
them  all  from  an  unmerciful  horsing.  Even  the 
Head  Master  had  called  their  attention  to  that  in  his 
brief  discourse  to  them  on  that  unpleasant  morning 
afterwards. 

Carroll  met  the  two  coming  out  of  Thornton  Hall — 
the  refectory — one  evening  after  supper,  and  joined 


MICHAELMAS  TERM  43 

them  as  they  walked  around  the  terrace  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"I  say,  you  fellow,"  he  began,  plunging  in  medias 
res — Carroll  always  took  the  unexpected  line — "why 
the  deuce  do  you  keep  so  sour  on  young  Deering?" 

Chapin  looked  up  quickly,  his  eyes  glinting  un- 
pleasantly in  the  moonlight.  "Hang  it,  Carroll!" 
he  exclaimed,  "what's  that  to  you?  We've  no  obliga- 
tion to  take  up  with  every  httle  southern  beggar 
that  comes  to  school,  as  you  seem  to  have." 

"No,  assuredly,"  Carroll  replied,  suavely,  "but 
it  occurs  to  me  that  when  a  chap  has  behaved  as 
uncommonly  decently  to  us  as  Deering  has,  you 
might  show  a  little — well,  appreciation." 

"Rot!  Deering  has  had  a  swelled  head  ever  since 
the  night  of  the  hazing-bee,  and  if  Jack  Stenton  sticks 
him  on  the  team  for  the  Boxford  game  there'll  be  no 
holding  him.  We  will  be  for  sending  him  up  to 
Kingsbridge  instanter." 

"You  are  uttering  unspeakable  nonsense,  my  dear 
Arthur,  and  you  know  it.  Give  the  lad  a  show; 
play  fair.  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Harry?" 
he  added,  turning  to  Marsh,  "it  is  only  lately  that 
you  have  taken  to  snubbing  him." 

Marsh  gave  an  uneasy  laugh.  "Oh,  Arty  and  me 
hang  together,"  he  said  lamely. 

"Well,  that  is  more  than  you  can  say  for  your 
English,"  remarked  Carroll,  with  a  contemptuous 
smile,  and  turned  away. 

Chapin  followed  him  up,  and  laid  an  arm  upon  his 
shoulder.  "Look  here,  Reggie,"  he  exclaimed,  "don't 
let's  bicker  about  this  kid.     I  don't  Uke  him,  but 


44  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

what  difference  need  that  make  between  us?  We  have 
stuck  pretty  close  these  four  years.  Come  on  now, 
let's  slip  down  to  the  cave,  hit  the  pipe,  and  talk 
things  over." 

''No,  thank  you,"  replied  Carroll  briefly. 

"Come  on,  Reggie,  do,"  put  in  Marsh,  "we've 
bagged  a  bottle  of  wine  to-day,  and  we'll  bust  it 
to-night  in  your  honor." 

"Thanks,  no;  seductive  as  your  offering  is,  I  rather 
fancy  you  may  count  me  out  of  your  little  meetings 
in  the  future."  And  with  the  words  Carroll  went  on 
his  way. 

The  two  boys  looked  after  him  a  moment,  until 
he  entered  the  Old  School,  when  Chapin  exclaimed, 
with  an  oath,  "Let  him  go,  Harry;  we'll  count  him 
out  all  right;  but  we'll  get  even  with  his  cub." 

Marsh  murmured  an  assent,  but  hung  back  a  little 
when  Chapin  renewed  the  proposal  to  visit  the  cave 
on  the  beach.  "Don't  let  us  go  to-night.  Art;  re- 
member you're  in  training." 

"The  deuce  with  training.  What's  the  use  of  bang- 
ing your  head  against  a  football  for  a  month  if  a 
greenhorn  like  that  is  to  be  shoved  into  the  front  row 
at  the  last  moment.  I'm  going  to  have  some  fun 
nights,  and  you'll  see,  I  shall  be  as  fit  as  a  fiddle  in 
the  morning  anyway."  And  as  he  spoke,  he  drew 
Marsh's  arm  within  his,  and  together  they  started  for 
the  beach. 

From  that  day  Carroll  avoided  them,  a  circumstance 
that  did  not  increase  their  friendliness  toward  Tony. 
It  had  been  comparatively  easy  at  the  time  for  Regi- 
nald to  take  the  course  he  did,  but  as  the  days  came 


MICHAELMAS  TERM  45 

and  went,  he  began  to  miss  the  companionship  of 
Chapin  and  Marsh  more  than  he  cared  to  acknowl- 
edge. Although  naturally  there  was  little  in  common 
between  them,  for  so  long  a  time  he  had  identified 
himself  with  them  and  their  crowd, — attracted  by 
their  wilUngness  to  engage  upon  any  lark  however 
wild  and  their  keenness  to  avoid  school  rules,  a  process 
to  which  his  own  languid  existence  had  been  secretly 
dedicated,  —  that  he  keenly  missed  the  nefarious 
exploits  their  companionship  afforded.  To  be  sure 
he  had  stopped  smoking,  he  was  bracing  up  a  bit 
and  helping  Mr.  Morris  out  with  the  discipUne  of 
the  house,  but  beyond  that  he  craved  as  ardently 
as  ever  the  excitement  and  adventure  of  his  more 
careless  days. 

At  that  moment  he  was  ripe  to  have  entered  into 
a  closer  intimacy  with  Tony,  or  even  with  Mr.  Morris. 
But  Deering  was  absorbed  in  the  life  of  his  form,  and 
except  at  night  he  and  Carroll  had  no  opportunity 
of  being  together,  and  then  Tony  was  so  tired  out 
with  football  practice  that  by  "lights"  he  was  ready 
to  tumble  into  bed.  And  so  they  fell  quite  out  of  the 
way  of  having  nocturnal  talks.  Mr.  Morris  had  a 
great  liking  for  Carroll,  despite  his  obvious  faults, 
but  he  had  long  since  given  up  the  hope  of  knowing 
him  better,  of  getting  beyond  Carroll's  supercilious 
reserve  and  too-elaborate  courtesy.  The  consequence 
was  that  he  detected  no  change  now  in  the  boy's 
attitude  and  failed  to  make  the  advances  that  Carroll 
would  have  responded  to  so  readily.  For  the  first 
time  Carroll  became  seriously  dissatisfied  with  his 
life  at  school.    He  was  really  bored,  as  he  had  always 


46  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

pretended  to  be,  and  also  lonely,  which  of  course 
he  did  not  acknowledge,  even  to  himself.  He  was  a 
little  inclined  to  think  in  his  heart  that  his  half- 
conscious  efforts  at  reform  were  not  worth  while. 
However  he  decided  to  stick  it  out  for  the  year  at 
any  rate,  and  settled  down  to  the  monotonous  routine 
with  an  air  of  indifference,  and  kept  steadily  away 
from  his  old  companions. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  BOXFORD   GAME 

The  first  cold  snap  gave  way  again  to  Indian  summer 
with  just  enough  northwest  wind  to  make  good  foot- 
ball weather.  The  practice  went  on  diligently.  Lesser 
rivals  came  week  by  week  to  Deal  and  literally  and 
metaphorically  bit  the  dust  ere  the  great  Boxford 
game  drew  near.  The  school  was  a-quiver  with  excite- 
ment. The  form  leaders  marshalled  the  boys  onto  the 
field  in  the  bright  clear  afternoons  and  stimulated  them 
to  cheer  until  they  were  hoarse.  The  pros  and  cons  of 
winning  were  the  principal  theme  of  conversation 
during  recreation  times,  and  hours  and  minutes  were 
counted  as  the  great  day  came  nearer  and  nearer. 

The  day  before  the  game  a  mass  meeting  was  held 
in  the  Gymnasium,  and  the  Head  and  Mr.  Stenton 
and  such  other  masters  as  had  athletic  proclivities 
were  called  upon  for  speeches,  while  the  boys  cheered 
everything  enthusiastically  without  discrimination. 
Sandy  Maclaren,  the  doughty  captain  of  the  eleven, 
mounted  the  rostrum  amongst  others,  and  delivered 
his  sentiments  in  a  terse  series  of  twelve  stammering 
words,  "Boys,  we've  got  to  win;  and  that's  all  I  have 
to  say,"  which  was  greeted  with  an  applause  that 
more  skilled  orators  seldom  evoke.  The  form  games 
were  over,  and  the  form  teams  had  disbanded;  all 

47 


48  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

effort  was  concentrated  now  upon  the  chief  game  of 
the  year. 

Tony,  from  his  place  amongst  the  scrub  players, 
heard  it  all  with  tingling  ears  and  beating  heart, 
absorbing  that  intangible  energy — school  spirit — as 
air  into  his  lungs.  This  unexpected  and  vehement 
stirring  of  his  emotions  bewildered  him.  He  thought 
he  was  just  beginning  to  understand  what  love  of 
school  might  mean.  Then  they  sang  ''Here's  to  good 
old  Deal"  and  ''There's  a  wind  that  blows  o'er  the 
sea-girt  isle"  in  a  fashion  that  brought  the  heart  to 
the  throat  and  tears  of  exquisite  happiness  to  the 
eyes.  And  at  last  Doctor  Forester  dismissed  them 
with  a  few  encouraging  words  that  sounded  very  much 
like  a  blessing. 

Jimmie  Lawrence  sought  Tony's  side,  as  the  boys 
poured  out  of  the  Gymnasium.  "Hey,  Tony,  ain't  it 
grand?"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  twined  his  arms  around 
his  friend's  neck.    "Oh,  say,  boy,  we've  got  to  win." 

Tony  gave  a  little  gulp  and  squeezed  Jimmie's 
hand.  "Oh,  Jimmie,  I  never  felt  so  great  in  all  my 
life." 

The  night  before  the  game  they  were  in  Jimmie's 
rooms  in  Standerland  and  a  crowd  of  Third  Formers 
came  trooping  in.  "No  school  to-night,"  cried  Kit 
Wilson,  "there's  to  be  a  P-rade  around  the  campus 
at  eight-thirty  sharp.  Tony,  you  lucky  dog,  don't  it 
feel  good  even  to  be  a  despised  scrub?  " 

Tony  laughed.  "Say,  fellows,  you  don't  know  how 
it  all  strikes  a  greenhorn  like  me.  Why,  it  makes  me 
feel  bully  to  be  alive."  And  as  he  stood  there  in  the 
center  of  the  room,  with  smiling  friendly  faces  about 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  49 

him,  health  and  excitement  glowing  in  his  cheeks 
and  a  happy  smile  playing  on  his  boyish  lips,  there 
was  an  unconscious  feeling  within  them  all  that  it 
was  bully  for  him  to  be  alive. 

Rush  Merton,  an  irrepressible,  black  eyed,  black 
haired  youth,  proposed  a  fresh  song  and  started  to 
bellow  it  forth,  but  the  boys  were  keen  for  talk  and 
promptly  smothered  him  with  sofa  pillows — an  assault 
that  was  resented  so  violently  that  in  much  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell  Jimmie's  attractive  rooms  were 
in  that  sad  condition,  technically  known  as  "rough- 
house."  In  the  midst  of  the  hubbub  a  stentorian 
voice  made  itself  heard,  ''Here  stop  this  nonsense!" 
And  Jack  Stenton,  the  hardy  popular  athletic  director, 
came  in.  "Don't  make  nuisances  of  yourselves, 
children.  Pick  up  those  sofa  pillows,  compose  your- 
selves, and  listen  to  words  of  wisdom  from  an  older 
and  wiser  man." 

"Hear,  hear!"  came  in  boisterous  good-nature  from 
a  dozen  throats.  Rush  gathered  himself  together 
from  the  pile  of  cushions,  made  an  absurd  bow,  and 
indicated  Mr.  Stenton  with  a  pompous  wave  of  the 
hand.  "Gentlemen,  I  yield  the  center  of  attention 
(and  the  center  of  gravity,"  he  added  sotto  voce)  "to 
our  beloved  athletic  director.  Mr.  Athletic  Director, 
we  are  all  ears." 

"Good!  You  are  all  Third  Formers,  eh?"  said 
Stenton,  with  a  smile,  as  he  looked  them  over  good- 
naturedly.  "I  fancied  that  I  might  find  you  congre- 
gated in  this  den  of  iniquity.  Well,  I  have  come  up 
here  to  tell  you  fellows  how  much  I  appreciate  Kit 
Wilson's   spirit   in   cheerfully   giving   his   best   form 


50  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

players  to  the  scrub.  He  has  set  an  example  to  the 
other  forms  that  is  bound  to  be  a  fine  thing  for  the 
athletics  of  the  school.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  also 
that  the  form,  this  time,  is  going  to  get  something 
out  of  it — an  honor  that  I  don't  think  has  fallen  to 
the  Third  Form  previous  to  this  in  the  history  of 
Deal  School.  After  due  consideration  Captain  Mac- 
laren  and  I  have  decided  to  play  Deering  at  left  end 
in  to-morrow's  game." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  due  to  the  over- 
whelming surprise,  for  they  had  hardly  dared  hope 
that  Tony  would  be  given  a  chance  except  as  a  sub- 
stitute; and  this  meant  that  he  had  won  out  against 
Marsh  who  had  played  on  the  team  last  year.  Deering 
himself  looked  in  helpless  amazement,  first  at  Stenton, 
then  at  his  form  mates.  Jimmie  broke  the  stillness 
at  last  by  exclaiming  in  a  shrill  voice,  "Come  to  my 
'arms,  my  frabjous  boy,"  and  clasped  Tony  wildly 
about  the  waist.  Then  the  cheers  rang  forth,  despite 
Stenton's  protest,  until  Mr.  Morris  came  running 
out  of  his  study  to  find  out  what  the  racket  was. 

''Come,  come,"  Mr.  Stenton  cried  at  last,  ''cut  this 
now;  and  you,  young  'un,  get  to  bed  and  don't  cele- 
brate any  more  to-night.  Hello,  Mr.  Morris,  we  have 
decided  to  put  Deering  in  the  game  to-morrow — 
hence  this  bedlam." 

"That's  fine!"  exclaimed  Morris  heartily,  as  he 
shook  Tony's  hand.  "But  you  boys  had  better  get 
out  now  and  join  the  procession;  they  are  meeting 
before  the  Chapel." 

At  last  they  were  gone,  having  wrung  Tony's  hand 
two  or  three  times  each,  and  Deering  and  Lawrence 


I-I  ^ 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  51 

were  left  alone.  For  a  moment  neither  boy  spoke, 
but  stood  looking  at  each  other,  their  eyes  glistening 
with  friendliness  that  had  been  heightened  by  the 
excitement  and  the  common  joy.  Jimmie  was  as 
unaffectedly  glad  as  if  the  honor  had  come  to  him. 
Then  Tony  slipped  into  a  chair  by  the  v/indow,  and 
putting  his  head  upon  his  hands  stared  out  upon  the 
campus,  which  was  beginning  to  be  covered  with 
groups  of  boys,  converging  toward  the  Chapel.  "I 
wish  old  Jack  had  let  me  go  out  and  help  celebrate," 
he  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "I  can't  sleep  if  I  do  go 
to  bed." 

Jimmie  sat  down  on  the  chair,  and  slipped  his  arm 
about  Tony's  neck.  "You  must,  dear  old  boy,  all 
the  same;  'cause  you've  got  to  win  for  us." 

Tony  laughed,  and  clasping  Jimmie's  hand,  he 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  sudden  seriousness  that  in 
after  days  Jimmie  was  to  recall  as  having  been  pro- 
foundly significant.  "Jim,"  he  said,  "I  know  that 
Sandy  and  Larry  Cummings  and  Chapin  and  the  rest 
of  'em  can  play  football  a  thousand  times  better  than  I 
will  ever  do,  but  just  the  same  there's  something  that 
kind  of  tells  me  that  I  am  going  to  have  my  chance  to- 
morrow in  a  special  way.  I  must  do  something  to 
prove  to  Jack  and  Sandy  that  they  aren't  making  a 
mistake.  Oh,  Jim,  you  don't  know  how  I  feel — awfully 
puffed  up  and  absurdly  small.    I  wish  it  were  you." 

"You're  all  right,  old  boy;  and  Sandy  and  Jack 
know  their  business  a  blame  sight  better  than  we  do. 
Now  ciit  it  for  bed,  and  I'll  go  out  and  help  make  the 
night  hideous." 

In  his  own  rooms,  where  Tony  went  as  soon  as 


52  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Jimmie  left  him,  he  found  Carroll  deep  in  a  Morris  chair 
and  the  pages  of  a  French  novel.  "Hello,  Reggie,"  he 
cried,  "aren't  you  going  to  p-rade?" 

"Not  I,  kiddo,"  answered  Carroll,  indifferently. 
"I  fancy  I've  reached  that  patriarchal  age,  in  spirit 
if  not  in  the  flesh,  when  one  puts  away  childish  things. 
I  am  mildly  moved,  however,  to  go  and  tell  Stenton 
and  Maclaren  that  I  approve  of  them,  but  I'll  content 
myself  with  saying  that  to  you.  It  is  worth  while  to 
have  swift-moving  pedalities,  isn't  it?" 

"So  it  seems,"  Tony  muttered,  a  little  disappointed 
by  the  coolness  of  his  friend's  tone.  "Well,  good- 
night," he  added,  "I  am  going  to  turn  in." 

Carroll  had  not  meant  to  be  supercilious,  and  for 
a  moment  after  Tony  left  him,  avoiding  his  glance 
as  he  had,  he  laid  down  his  novel  and  started  toward 
Deering's  bedroom.  His  hand  was  almost  on  the 
knob,  the  generous  hearty  words  on  his  lips,  but  he 
hesitated,  and  at  last  turned  back  and  took  up  his 
book.  The  study  door  was  open,  and  at  that  moment 
Mr.  Morris  paused  at  it,  evidently  on  his  way  to  the 
campus. 

"Not  celebrating,  Reginald?"  he  enquired. 

"No,  Mr.  Morris,"  answered  Carroll,  rising. 

A  momentary  wave  of  anger  swept  over  Morris's 
strong  kindly  face.  "Is  it  that  your  school  spirit 
is  so  slack  or  that  your  French  novel  is  so  absorbing?" 

Carroll  bowed  with  an  icy  politeness.  "I  am  afraid, 
Mr.  Morris,"  he  said  at  last,  with  compressed  lips, 
"that  whichever  explanation  I  gave  would  mean  the 
same  to  you." 

"I  am  afraid  it  would,  Reginald,"  said  Mr.  Morris, 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  63 

as  he  turned  away,  with  something  Uke  a  sigh.   ' '  Good- 
night." 
•     ''Good-night,  sir." 

Carroll  sat  for  a  long  time  without  reading,  listening 
to  the  shouts  upon  the  campus.  At  length  he  picked 
up  his  novel,  went  into  his  bedroom,  and  undressed. 
Before  getting  into  bed,  he  darkened  his  transom, 
lighted  a  small  electric  night-lamp,  and  laid  a  pad  and 
pencil  on  the  table  by  his  bedside.  For  an  hour  or 
more,  long  after  the  excitement  had  ebbed  without 
and  the  boys  had  got  back  and  gone  noisily  to  bed, 
long  after  he  had  heard  the  watchman  make  his 
stealthy  midnight  rounds,  Carroll  sat  there  in  bed, 
gazing  dreamily  out  of  his  window  upon  the  moonlit 
sea  and  the  misty  outlines  of  Lovel's  Woods  and  at 
the  ruby  intermittent  glow  of  Deigr  Light,  and  now 
and  then  he  jotted  down  a  line  or  word  upon  the  pad. 
This  was  what  he  wrote : 

The  pure  stars  shine  above  the  flowing  sea, 
The  strand  is  gleaming  in  the  moon's  soft  light, 

The  south  wind  blows  across  the  murky  lea, 
The  lamps  of  Monday  glimmer  in  the  night. 

The  moon  sags  slowly  in  the  violet  west, 
A  yellow  crescent,  cloud-hung  all  about, 

As  though  in  weariness  it  sinks  to  rest. 
And  one  by  one  the  glowing  lamps  go  out. 

So  flutter  all  the  little  weary  souls 

In  trembling  dreams  a  moment  and  are  still; 

The  school  is  wrapped  in  darkness;  on  the  shoals 
The  tide  turns;  night  enfolds  the  silent  hill. 

The  day  of  the  game  turned  out  bright  and  fair, 


54  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

after  a  dull  gray  morning,  with  ozone  and  freshness 
in  the  nippy  air  of  early  November.  Recitations  of 
a  sort  were  held  in  the  morning,  though  to  be  sure  most 
of  the  masters  fell  into  reminiscent  vein  and  apropos 
of  nothing  at  all  told  their  classes  stories  of  the  by- 
gone heroes  of  the  School — of  Nifty  Turner's  mighty 
kick  and  Pard's  immortal  run  from  the  enemy's 
ten-yard  line.  Mr.  Roylston  alone  had  the  ability 
and  the  temerity  to  hold  his  form  down  to  an  un- 
relieved discussion  of  the  sequence  of  tenses  in  CcBsar 
and  mercilessly  put  Kit  Wilson  into  detention  for 
misconstruing  an  obvious  Imperfect  with  the  remark, 
*'I  guess  to-day  it  is  an  Historical  Present."  Kit 
served  his  detention   and  passed  into  history. 

The  team,  including  Tony  in  a  brand-new  red 
sweater  with  a  gorgeous  black  "D"  across  the  breast, 
were  excused  from  school  at  noon,  and  had  dinner 
in  the  Refectory  with  the  Boxfordians,  who  had 
coached  across  the  hills  in  the  morning.  By  two 
o'clock  the  teams  were  on  the  field,  passing  footballs, 
catching  punts  and  kicking  goals  in  regulation  fashion. 

The  boys  poured  out  of  the  Schoolhouse  after  two 
o'clock  call-over,  and  crowded  the  side  lines,  while 
the  faculty  and  their  wives  and  distinguished  visitors 
from  Boxford  and  Monday  Port  filled  the  line  of 
wooden  bleachers  which  had  been  run  up  the  day 
before. 

Doctor  Forester  and  the  Head  Master  of  Boxford 
walked  up  and  down  within  the  lines,  repeating 
the  same  amiable  courtesies  and  remarks  about  the 
weather  and  the  view  and  the  condition  of  the  teams 
that  they  had  made  for  years,  as  though  this  were  the 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  55 

first  instead  of  the  twentieth  struggle  in  which  Deal 
and  Boxford  had  been  engaged.  It  was  a  specially 
important  game,  as  the  score  in  games  between  the 
two  schools  was  a  tie. 

The  present  scribe,  who  was  not  a  football  player, 
cannot  undertake  to  describe  that  eventful  game 
in  technical  language.  The  intricacies  of  formation 
and  mass  play  were  beyond  his  humble  abilities  at 
school,  as  he  has  no  doubt  they  are  to  the  majority  of 
people  who  nevertheless  follow  the  game  with  as  keen 
interest  as  if  they  knew  it.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  in- 
conceivable to  him,  that  anything  could  be  quite 
as  exciting  to  a  Deal  boy  or  a  Kingsbridge  man  as  to 
see  his  school  or  college  team  pressing  nearer  and 
nearer  the  coveted  goal,  or  to  watch  a  fleet-footed 
boy  dodge  through  a  broken  field,  sprint  as  though 
the  fate  of  empires  hung  upon  his  fleetness,  and 
sprawl  gloriously  at  last  behind  the  enemy's  line  on 
top  of  the  ball.  The  technically  curious  are  referred 
to  Vol.  LX,  No.  2  of  the  Deal  Literary  Magazine, 
where  they  will  find  a  more  accurate  account  than 
they  certainly  will  find  in  the  pages  of  this  chronicle. 
They  will  miss  there,  however,  an  incident,  which 
impresses  the  scribe  as  having  been  the  most  important 
of  the  game. 

Suffice  it,  the  ball  was  kicked  off  at  three  o'clock 
by  the  Boxford  center,  and  went  saiUng  down  the 
field  into  the  arms  of  Sandy  Maclaren  on  the  ten- 
yard  line,  and  eleven  blue-garbed  Boxfordians  went 
chasing  after  it  lipity-cut.  Here  one  described  a 
graceful  parabola  as  his  knees  encountered  the  hardy 
back   of   Arthur   Chapin,    another    went    flying   off 


56  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

involuntarily  in  a  reverse  direction  as  he  caught 
Deering's  hand  in  his  ribs,  but  one,  surer  than  the  rest, 
dived  for  a  tackle  and  laid  Sandy  low  just  as  he  was 
crossing  the  thirty-yard  line.  Cheers  rang  out  in- 
discriminately from  both  sides  of  the  field,  until  the 
scattered  teams  had  run  together,  and,  kneeling  face 
to  face,  with  hands  clenched,  faces  grimly  set,  the 
muscles  a-quiver,  waited  while  Kid  Drayton,  Deal's 
little  quarter-back,  gave  the  signals  in  his  high  shrill 
voice,  "Forty-nine,  eleven,  sixteen."  Then  the  ball 
was  snapped,  and  Chapin,  the  half-back,  was  hurled 
through  a  hole  in  Boxford's  line  for  a  gain  of  seven 
yards.  Once,  twice,  thrice,  the  Deal  boys  made  their 
distance  to  the  indescribable  joy  of  their  supporters. 
Then  the  Boxford  team,  recovering  from  the  unex- 
pected strength  of  the  first  onslaught,  stiffened  and 
became  as  a  stone  wall,  and  held  Deal  for  three  downs, 
so  that  Thorndyke,  the  full-back,  dropped  behind 
for  a  kick.  The  oval  went  spinning  through  the  air, 
Tony  speeding  away  almost  under  it,  dodging  the 
player  who  tried  to  intercept  him,  so  that  as  the 
Boxford  half  leaned  back  to  catch  the  ball,  he 
downed  him  in  his  tracks.  For  the  first  time  Tony 
heard  the  Sis,  Boom,  Ah!  of  the  rippling  cheer  ring 
out  with  his  own  name  tacked  on  to  the  end  of  it. 
Back  and  forth,  now  tucked  tight  under  the  arm  of 
a  red  or  a  blue  sweater,  now  sailing  luxuriously  in 
the  air,  the  ball  was  worked  over  the  field;  near  Box- 
ford's  goal,  near  Deal's;  or  worried  like  a  rat  by  a 
pack  of  terriers  in  the  middle  of  the  gridiron.  The 
two  teams  were  almost  equally  matched,  and  the 
first  half  ended  without  a  score. 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  57 

"You  are  doing  well,  young  'un,"  said  Stenton  to 
Tony,  as  he  stood  in  the  center  of  the  Deal  team  in 
the  locker-rooms  under  the  Gymnasium  between  the 
halves.  "Give  him  a  chance,  Drayton,  and  send  him 
around  right  end.    I  think  it  will  work." 

"All  right,  sir,"  the  little  quarter-back  squeaked. 
"I've  been  counting  on  Chapin  mostly,  but  toward 
the  end  he  seemed  to  be  completely  tuckered." 

Chapin  looked  up  from  the  bench  where  he  was 
sitting.  "You  were  so  blame  winded  yourself  that  you 
could  hardly  give  the  signals,"  he  snarled. 

"Drop  that  kind  of  talk!"  exclaimed  Stenton. 
"You  have  been  playing  like  a  tackling  dummy  for  the 
last  ten  minutes.  If  you  want  to  lose  the  game  for 
us  keep  that  up." 

"I  am  playing  the  best  game  I  know,"  Chapin 
answered  surlily.  "If  you  don't  like  it,"  he  muttered, 
though  Stenton  did  not  hear  him,  "go  get  another  of 
your  Third  Form  pets.  You  chucked  Marsh,  one  of 
your  best  players." 

The  second  half  opened,  and  each  team  seemed  to 
come  back  fresher  to  the  fray.  With  a  few  trifling 
exceptions  there  had  been  no  injuries.  Chapin  seemed 
the  only  boy  on  whom  the  strain  was  telling,  and 
Stenton  correctly  surmised  that  that  was  because 
he  had  not  been  keeping  training.  And  as  a  matter 
of  fact  at  a  fatal  moment  his  form  told.  The  ball  had 
been  worked  down  well  toward  Deal's  goal  line,  and 
each  time  through  Chapin.  Suddenly  the  Boxford 
full-back  dropped  back  for  a  kick:  the  center  sent 
the  ball  spinning  to  him,  and  a  second  later  he  made 
a  drop  kick  that  sent  the  ball  like  a  great  bird  sailing 


58  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

majestically  between  the  Deal  goal  posts.    And  the 
score  was  4  to  0  in  favor  of  Boxford. 

Pandemonium  broke  loose  on  the  visitors'  side- 
lines, while  the  home  boys  were  still  with  apprehension 
and  disappointment.  Soon  the  ball  was  back  in  the 
center  of  the  field  in  Deal's  possession,  and  was  bein*^- 
pushed,  inevitably  it  appeared,  toward  Boxford's  goal, 
and  the  strident  cries  of  "Touchdown,  touchdown, 
touchdown!"  rang  across  the  campus  from  the  throats 
of  three  hundred  Deal  boys.  "How  much  time?" 
cried  Sandy.  "Three  minutes  to  play!"  called  the 
time-keeper,  and  his  ominous  words  were  taken  up  and 
repeated  by  the  referee.  Tony  felt  as  if  his  heart  would 
break.  Why,  why,  why,  he  wondered,  did  not  Drayton 
give  him  a  chance?  And  Jack  Stenton,  anxiouslj^ 
pacing  the  side-lines,  wondered  too.  And  then  sud- 
denly Tony  heard  Kid's  squeaky  voice  ring  out, 
"Sixteen,  twenty-two,  one," — his  signal!  And  brac- 
ing nerves  and  sinews,  he  waited  breathlessly  as  the 
left  half  received  the  ball,  and,  dodging  the  arms  of 
the  Boxford  player  who  had  broken  through,  thrust 
the  smooth  little  pigskin  into  Tony's  arms.  Away 
he  dashed,  with  Chapin,  Maclaren,  and  Thorndyke 
interfering,  round  right  end.  He  thrust  his  hand 
into  the  shoulder  of  the  opposing  tackle,  success- 
fully dodged  a  heavy  Boxford  boy  who  had  dived  to 
tackle,  and  with  Chapin  by  his  side,  went  tearing 
down  the  field,  which  was  perfectly  open  save  for 
the  frantic  quarter-back  of  the  Boxford  team,  who  was 
dashing  forward  to  intercept  him.  Thirty  yards 
more  and  the  game  was  won!  but  the  quarter-back 
was  almost  upon  him.    "Keep  ahead!  keep  ahead!" 


THE  BOXFORD  GAME  59 

he  screamed  at  Chapin,  who  seemed  for  the  instant 
to  be  lagging  behind.  Twenty  yards! — and  he  could 
see  the  Boxford  quarter  dashing  diagonally  across 
the  field  toward  him,  and  almost  feel  his  arms  pinioning 
his  legs.  An  instantaneous  glance — yes,  yes,  he  could 
make  it  if  Chapin  would  only  keep  up  with  him  and 
ward  ofif  that  quarter  as  he  made  his  lunge.  Then, 
just  as  the  Deal  boys  rose  to  a  man,  with  a  frantic 
cheer,  the  supreme  moment  was  come.  The  line  was 
reached,  but  suddenly  Deering  felt  a  jolt;  the  quarter's 
arms  were  about  his  waist,  as  they  went  sprawUng 
toward  the  goal-line;  but  another  arm  clothed  in  a 
red  sweater  had  thrust  itself  next  Tony's  body  and 
given  the  ball  a  terrific  shove.  In  an  agony  of  horror, 
as  he  fell  heavily  to  earth,  he  saw  the  football  fall 
out  of  his  arms,  bound  to  the  ground  in  front  of  them, 
and  Chapin  and  the  Boxford  quarter  lunge  together, 
as  they  all  went  down  in  the  melee.  But  the  Boxford 
boy  was  on  the  ball  and  had  scored  a  touchback! 

There  was  a  shrill  whistle,  and  the  crowd  of  players 
were  about  them,  the  Deal  boys  uttering  harsh  cries 
of  anger  and  disappointment;  the  Boxford  boys 
cheering  in  delirious  joy,  and  above  it  all  a  hoarse 
voice  screaming  "Time!  time!"  Tony  pulled  himself 
together.  ''What's  that?"  he  exclaimed  in  be- 
wildered  fashion.  ''Deal  this  way,"  yelled  Sandy 
Maclaren;  and  then  to  him  in  a  contemptuous  aside, 
"The  game's  over,  you  fool;  get  up  and  cheer." 

Suddenly  he  reaUzed  the  whole  situation,  realized 
much  more  than  any  one  else  did  at  that  strenuous 
moment,  for  he  remembered  the  red-clothed  arm  that 
was  responsible  for  the  catastrophe  of  his  losing  the 


60  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

ball,  and  he  gave  a  long  look  full  into  Chapin's  face, 
but  held  his  tongue.  With  a  sudden  overwhelming 
bitterness  he  realized  that  Chapin  had  had  his  revenge. 
As  soon  as  the  cheer  was  over  he  ran  across  the 
field  toward  the  Gymnasium,  passing  Jack  Stenton 
on  the  way,  who  gave  him  a  glance  of  unmitigated 
disgust.  ''Couldn't  you  have  kept  from  fumbling 
for  one  second  when  the  game  was  in  your  hands?" 
he  hissed  at  him,  forgetting  himself  in  his  bitter  dis- 
appointment. Tony  bent  his  head  and  ran  on — not 
back  to  the  lockers,  but  to  his  own  room  in  Stander- 
land,  where  he  locked  himself  in.  He  refused  to 
open  even  to  Jimmie  Lawrence,  who  came  knocking 
there  presently,  loyal  despite  his  grief,  anxious  only 
to  commiserate  his  friend,  whom  he  knew  was  suffering 
more  keenly  than  any  of  the  rest  of  them. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFTERMATH 

The  outcome  of  the  game  for  several  days  cast  a 
deep  gloom  over  the  school.  No  one  apparently  had 
seen  Chapin's  dastardly  play,  so  that  the  cause  of  the 
defeat  was  very  generally  ascribed  to  Tony's  fumbling. 
The  Boxford  boys  had  driven  off  in  great  glee,  Deal 
joining  good-spiritedly  in  their  cheers;  but  the  bells 
remained  silent;  the  bon-fires  were  not  lighted,  and 
the  school  settled  down  to  a  doleful  Saturday  night. 
Little  groups  of  boys  gathered  here  and  there  after 
supper,  and  discussed  the  incidents  of  the  day.  Sandy 
Maclaren  and  Stenton  were  universally  blamed  for 
having  risked  the  experiment  of  playing  a  green  boy 
in  a  big  game,  but  with  boys'  native  generosity  they 
showed  no  animosity  toward  Deering.  He  had  lost 
the  game — the  consciousness  of  that,  they  realized, 
was  bitter  enough  punishment  for  him.  Even  his 
own  form  mates  thought  it  natural  that  he  should 
prefer  to  keep  to  himself  that  evening,  and  showed 
little  sympathy  for  Jimmie  Lawrence's  anxiety  on  his 
behalf.  Jimmie  had  tried  again  and  again  to  get 
into  Tony's  room,  but  could  get  no  response  to  his 
repeated  knockings. 

Had  he  known  all  that  was  going  on  in  Tony's 
mind  and  heart,  he  would  have  understood.    For  shut 

61 


62  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

in  his  bedroom,  flat  upon  his  face  on  the  bed,  Deering 
was  struggling  with  the  keenest  temptation  he  had 
ever  faced.  He  reaUzed  acutely  the  opprobrium,  the 
unjust  opprobrium,  that  he  would  meet  with,  perhaps 
not  crediting  his  school-mates  for  as  much  generosity 
as  they  had;  and  though  he  would  not  have  feared  to 
face  the  boys  had  the  fault  been  his  own,  he  could 
not  trust  himself  yet  to  meet  them,  see  their  disappoint- 
ment in  him,  receive  their  tolerant  sympathy,  when 
he  knew  that  a  word  from  him  might  free  himself 
from  ignominy  and  cast  the  blame  where  it  belonged. 
And  as  he  lay  there,  great  waves  of  hate  for  Chapin 
swept  over  him.  He  clenched  his  fists  and  drove 
them  into  the  pillows,  longing  that  his  fingers  were 
about  Chapin's  throat  and  that  he  might  choke  out 
of  him  a  confession  of  his  dastardly  betrayal.  To  his 
overwrought  mind  his  future  in  the  school  looked  dark 
and  unattractive.  The  two  months  that  he  had  spent 
there  had  been  so  bright  and  happy;  he  had  made  such 
warm  friends  and  won  for  himself,  it  seemed,  such  a 
promising  place  in  the  regard  of  the  school;  and  now, 
he  felt,  all  must  change,  and  his  fool's  paradise  go 
tumbling  down.  To  have  been  given  his  chance,  and 
failed  through  the  willful  meanness  of  another,  and 
failing,  to  have  cost  his  school  the  victory!  For  a 
moment  he  felt  that  he  would  pack  his  trunk,  go  down 
and  tell  Stenton  the  truth,  and  then  take  the  first 
train  out  of  Monday  Port  and  leave  the  school  to 
settle  the  wrangle  how  it  would. 

And  then  he  remembered  his  grandfather's  parting 
words,  as  the  old  general  had  stood  in  the  portico 
of  the  white-pillar' d  house  on  the  far-away  bayou. 


AFTERMATH  63 

"Never  repay  a  meanness  by  a  meanness,  my  boy; 
and  you  will  make  a  good  sort  of  Christian."  And 
now,  would  not  telling,  truth  though  it  were,  be 
repaying  a  meanness  by  a  meanness?  Yes;  but  with 
the  acknowledgment,  wrung  from  his  conscience,  he 
burst  into  tears,  tears  of  helpless  disappointment  and 
chagrin.  Telling  on  another,  especially  in  his  own 
defense,  Tony  had  always  instinctively  felt  the  most 
exquisite  form  of  meanness. 

After  a  time  he  sUpped  from  the  bed,  and  fell  on  his 
knees  by  the  bedside,  obeying  an  unconscious  need, 
in  response  to  the  suggestion  of  an  unbroken  habit 
of  putting  his  boyish  trust  in  an  unseen  power  that 
knew  and  understood.  "Oh,  God,"  he  cried,  "don't 
let  me  be  mean."  And  after  a  time,  though  as  a  matter 
of  fact  he  prayed  very  Uttle  more  while  he  knelt  there, 
he  rose  up,  removed  his  soiled  football  clothes,  washed 
and  dressed,  and  slipped  out  quietly  upon  the  campus. 
He  avoided  meeting  the  wandering  boys,  took  himself 
to  the  beach,  and  with  wind  whistling  and  waves  roar- 
ing in  his  ears,  in  tune  with  his  mood,  he  walked  the 
four  miles  out  to  the  extreme  point  of  Strathsey  Neck. 
It  was  a  grim  walk,  but  not  an  unhappy  one,  for  he 
had  won  his  battle  and  had  definitely  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  silent  about  the  game  as  he  had  been 
silent  about  the  hazing. 


But  Tony  was  not  the  only  person  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  game  that  day  and  knew  who  in  reality 
was  responsible  for  the  defeat.  Mr.  Morris,  who 
chanced  to  be  standing  on  the  side  near  the  Boxford 


64  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

goal-line,  had  seen  with  perfect  distinctness  all  that 
took  place  during  that  exciting  moment  of  the  game. 
And  though  several  of  the  boys  standing  near  him  had 
exclaimed,  ''It  looks  as  if  Chapin  had  knocked  the 
ball  out  of  Deering's  arms  himself,"  with  his  accus- 
tomed reserve,  he  held  his  peace  and  made  no  comment. 
The  incredibility  of  such  an  act  on  Chapin's  part  had 
speedily  driven  from  the  boys'  minds  the  momentary 
impression.  Morris,  observing  at  the  time  of  the 
game  that  Reggie  Carroll  was  standing  near  him,  had 
moved  over  to  join  him.  But  at  that  instant  time 
had  been  called,  and  immediately  the  field  was  a  scene 
of  indescribable  confusion.  The  house  master  pondered 
over  the  matter  during  the  evening,  but  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  as  to  the  proper  course  of  action. 

Just  before  lights  that  night  he  strolled  into  Carroll's 
and  Deering's  study,  where  he  found  Reggie  as  usual 
at  his  ease  in  a  Morris  chair  with  a  novel  in  his  hands. 
Carroll  affected  French  novels,  largely  because  he 
could  plead  the  excuse  when  he  was  caught  reading 
them  that  it  was  for  the  sake  of  his  languages. 

"Come  in,  do,  Mr.  Morris,"  exclaimed  Carroll,  with 
a  trace  less  than  his  wonted  coolness.  The  master 
entered,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  "Where  is 
Deering?"  he  asked,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the 
couch,  and  taking  up  a  paper-cutter  from  the  table, 
began  to  play  with  it. 

"He  has  just  come  back  from  a  long  walk,  and 
turned  in,  sir.    Would  you  like  to  speak  with  him?" 

"No,  no,  thank  you,"  Morris  answered.  "But  I 
will  sit  for  a  moment,  if  you  like,  and  talk  with  you. 
That  was  an  unfortunate  game  to-day,  was  it  not?" 


AFTERMATH  65 

And  as  Morris  asked  the  question  he  looked  at  Reggie 
closely. 

"Very,"  the  boy  answered,  laconically. 

"Particularly  for  our  friend  Deering,"  persisted  the 
master. 

"Yes,  I  wish  they  had  not  played  him;  it  was  a  poor 
experiment." 

"Had  you  supposed  him  a  careless  player?" 

Carroll  looked  up  languidly,  but  there  was  a  keen 
glance  in  his  eyes,  and  a  note  of  significance  in  his 
voice,  as  he  answered,  "No,  sir,  I  don't  think  him 
a  careless  player,  Mr.  Morris." 

"And  yet  he  fumbled  at  a  most  inopportune  time," 
suggested  Morris,  musingly. 

Carroll  flung  his  book  a  little  impatiently  on  the 
table,  and  looked  the  older  man  frankly  in  the  eyes. 
"Mr.  Morris,"  he  exclaimed,  with  every  trace  of 
indifference  gone,  "I  am  going  to  tell  you  in  strict 
confidence  what  I  know  about  the  game.  It  is  scarcely 
a  decent  thing  for  me  to  tell  it,  but  then  I  saw  it." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Morris  murmured,  encouragingly. 

"I  saw  Arthur  Chapin  knock  the  ball  out  of  Tony's 
arms  just  as  they  crossed  the  line  and  the  Boxford 
quarter  tackled  him.  I  beUeve  he  did  it  on  purpose. 
Now,  I  know,"  he  went  on  quickly,  "that  it  is  a  terrible 
accusation  to  make  against  a  fellow  even  in  confidence 
to  you;  but  that's  what  happened,  and  I  don't  know 
what  I  ought  to  do  about  it.  It's  incredible,  but  I  saw 
it."  And  springing  from  his  chair,  Reggie  began  to 
pace  excitedly  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Morris,  quietly,  "it  is  incredible, 
but  I  saw  it  too." 


66  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

'^What!"  exclaimed  Reggie.  ''You  saw  it,  Mr. 
Morris?" 

"Yes,  just  as  you  describe  it.  It  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  I  supposed  you  also  had  seen  it  that  I  came  in  to 
talk  it  over  with  you  to-night.  I  am  afraid  Chapin 
is  capable  of  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Well,  then "—Reggie  stopped— " Well,  then," 

he  repeated,  "  I  suppose  it  is  up  to  us  to  tell  the  Head." 

Morris  appeared  to  be  lost  in  thought.  "Of  course," 
he  said,  after  a  moment,  "that  is  the  right  course  to 
think  of;  but  I  am  not  sure,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I 
think  it  best  for  us  to  do  that  just  yet.  I  want  to  wait 
a  bit,  I  think,  and  see  what  Deering  might  wish  us  to 
do.     You  can  be  sure  he  knows  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  sure  he  knows, —  he  couldn't  help 
knowing." 

"Well,  personally  I  can't  see  what  good  will  come 
by  going  to  the  Head  right  away.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  if  it  is  brought  officially  to  Dr.  Forester's  notice 
that  he  will  feel  obliged  to  make  it  known  to  the 
school,  both  as  a  punishment  to  Chapin  and  in  justice 
to  Deering." 

"But  ought  that  not  to  be  done?"  asked  Carroll. 

"Well,  in  one  sense,  yes;  but  do  you  know,  Reggie, — 
though  it  may  seem  unwise  in  me,  I  have  an  extraor- 
dinary faith  in  Deering' s  judgment  about  this  mat- 
ter. I  want  to  know  how  he  takes  it  before  we  do 
anything." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  want  us  to  do  anything.  But, 
sir,  think  of  what  his  not  telling  will  mean  to  him; 
think  of  the  way  the  school  will  treat  him  for  a  while!" 

"Yes,  but  only  for  a  while.    There  are  possibilities 


AFTERMATH  67 

in  the  situation,  Reginald,  that  I  think  we  were  wiser 
not  to  spoil  by  acting  upon  snap  judgments." 

Carroll  reflected.  "Right,  0  wise  man!"  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  moment.    "Shall  we  sound  Tony,  then?" 

"Rather  not,  I  should  say.  Let  us  see  the  line 
that  Tony  takes  himself.  A  few  days  will  not  make 
any  difference,  and  we  can  set  things  straight,  you 
know." 

"But,  Mr.  Morris,  the  school  is  going  to  lose  the 
credit  of  victory." 

"Ah!  it  must  do  that  in  any  case.  One  of  our  men 
fumbled,  you  know,  whether  accidentally  or  not;  it 
makes  no  difference  in  the  result  of  the  game: — Box- 
ford  won.  What's  really  at  stake,  my  boy,  is  the 
character  of  those  two  fellows,  and  that's  everything — 
everything,  Reggie!" 

"By  Jove,  Mr.  Morris,"  exclaimed  the  boy  im- 
petuously, "if  anyone  will  ever  make  me  believe  that, 
you  and  Deering  will."  And  he  shook  the  master's 
hand  more  heartily  than  he  had  ever  done  before. 

Deering  appeared  the  next  day  at  his  usual  place  in 
school,  and  faced  the  ordeal  bravely  enough.  It  was 
an  ordeal  despite  a  general  effort  on  the  part  of  a 
majority  of  the  boys  to  avoid  discussion  of  the  game 
in  his  presence.  Here  and  there,  to  be  sure,  he  met 
with  the  veiled  glance  of  contempt  or  unfriendliness. 
Hardest  of  all,  however,  he  found  it  to  receive  Sandy 
Maclaren's  and  Mr.  Stenton's  kindly  sympathy.  The 
Great  Sandy,  as  the  boys  affectionately  called  him, 
from  his  pinnacle  as  the  Head  of  the  School,  was  a 
hero  to  Tony.  Sandy's  confidence  and  friendliness 
had  been  one  of  the  chief  factors  in  what  he  regarded 


68  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

as  his  success.  The  friendliness  was  still  there,  but 
Tony  sadly  feared  the  confidence  was  shattered. 

Stenton  took  him  by  the  arm  as  the  boys  were  pour- 
ing out  of  morning  Chapel  the  next  day,  where  they 
had  heard  a  sermon  in  which  the  Doctor  had  obviously 
taken  his  illustrations  from  the  defeat  of  the  day  before. 
Stenton  drew  Tony  along  with  him  toward  the  Old 
School. 

"I  want  to  apologize  to  you,  Deering,"  he  began, 
"for  the  way  I  spoke  to  you  yesterday  afternoon.  I 
was  horribly  upset  by  the  unexpectedness  of  things, 
and  simply  lost  my  temper.  I  know  you  did  your 
best,  and  I  know  too  that  no  one  is  proof  against  ac- 
cident in  football  or  anything  else." 

Tony  bit  his  lip  and  set  his  teeth.  "Thanks, 
Mr.  Stenton,"  he  said  briefly.  "I  appreciate  your 
speaking  to  me  in  this  way." 

"It  was  poor  interference,  anyway,"  went  on  the 
master,  "Chapin  might  have  saved  the  day  if  he 
had  been  a  bit  faster.    He  had  no  wind  yesterday." 

Tony  kept  silent,  and  there  was  an  awkward  pause 
in  the  conversation,  during  which  they  came  to  the 
steps  of  the  Old  School.  "Well,"  said  Stenton,  turning 
off,  "  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  am  sorry  I  spoke 
irritably.  I  want  you  to  have  your  chance  next  year 
again,  and  show  that  you  are  the  player  I  think  you 
are." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Stenton,"  said  Tony 
again,  and  turned  away. 

That  night  after  Chapel  Tony  had  his  first  talk  with 
Caft"oll  since  the  game.  It  was  desultory  enough, 
until  Reggie  spoke  out  frankly  and  expressed  his 


AFTERMATH  69 

sympathy.  Then  Deering  was  immediately  alert, 
his  face  flushed  quickly,  and  he  spoke  with  rather  a 
tone  of  irritation.  "Don't  let's  talk  about  the  game, 
Reggie.  It  was  a  bad  business,  and  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  that  the  less  said  about  it  the  better.  Matters 
can't  be  changed,  and  all  I  can  hope  to  do  is  to  make 
good  next  year.  Stenton  has  as  much  as  promised 
that  I  shall  have  the  chance.  I  want  to  forget  yester- 
day's game  as  quickly  as  possible." 

''Right!"  said  Carroll.  "I  promise  you,  you  shall 
hear  no  more  of  it  from  me." 

A  little  later,  after  Tony  had  gone  to  bed,  Carroll 
went  in  to  see  Mr.  Morris,  and  repeated  the  substance 
of  this  conversation. 

"It's  as  I  thought,"  he  said  in  conclusion,  "we  shall 
hear  no  more  of  it  from  Tony.  Do  you  still  think, 
sir,  that  we  should  hold  our  tongues?  " 

"For  the  present,  yes,"  answered  Morris.  "If  you 
don't  mind,  Reggie,  I  want  to  manage  this  myself. 
In  the  course  of  time,  I  shall  see  Chapin,  if  he  takes 
no  action  to  clear  Deering.  It  will  be  infinitely  better 
if  he  confesses  of  his  own  accord.  The  truth  will  be 
known  some  time,  and  in  the  meanwhile  I  don't  think 
Deering  will  really  suffer  in  popular  estimation.  The 
boys  like  him,  and  they  will  forgive  what  they  think  is 
his  carelessness.  If  the  confession  comes  from  Chapin 
both  boys  will  get  some  good  out  of  it.  I  feel  sure  that 
the  Doctor  would  approve  of  this,  though  I  feel  equally 
sure  that  if  the  matter  were  brought  to  his  attention  now 
he  would  feel  obUged  to  act  as  Head  Master  at  once." 

"Very  good,  sir:  I  shall  say  no  more  about  it, 
until  you  give  me  leave." 


70  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Morris  was  right.  Tony  did  not  suffer  very  greatly, 
and  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  the  game  was  prac- 
tically forgotten.  Chapin  certainly  showed  no  in- 
cUnation  to  right  the  wrong  he  had  done,  and  for  the 
time  being,  Morris  was  content  to  let  matters  drift. 

Within  a  month  the  school  broke  up  for  the  three 
weeks'  Christmas  recess.  Tony  did  not  make  the 
long  trip  south  for  a  visit  home,  but  instead  went 
with  Jimmie  to  the  Lawrences'  country-place  on 
Long  Island,  where  the  boys  spent  a  happy  holiday, 
riding  and  shooting,  and  being  plied  with  good  things 
by  Jimmie's  indulgent  parents.  Tony  made  a  good 
impression  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  this  visit 
to  his  friend's  home,  served  to  deepen  and  strengthen 
the  happy  intimacy  between  the  two  boys.  Early  in 
January  they  were  back  at  Deal  for  the  long  winter 
term,  which  Tony  was  promised  would  be  exceedingly 
dull.  He  rather  welcomed  the  relief  from  football 
practice,  however,  and  sensibly  made  up  his  mind 
to  make  the  term  count  in  his  form  work.  For  so 
far,  Tony's  reputation  as  a  scholar  had  scarcely  kept 
pace  with  his  popularity  as  a  genial  companion  and 
a  good  athlete. 


CHAPTER  VII 

lovel's  woods 

"Ough,  school  again!"  exclaimed  Jimmie  Lawrence, 
with  a  grunt,  as  he  jumped  off  the  platform  of  the 
little  way-train  at  Monday  Port  one  bright  cold 
afternoon  the  following  January.  "I  say,  Tony," 
he  continued,  linking  his  arm  in  that  of  his  companion, 
and  fishing  in  his  pockets  with  his  disengaged  hand 
for  his  luggage  checks,  "this  term  it  is  school  and  no 
mistake!  An  unspeakable  odor  of  gumshoe  pervades 
the  premises;  Pussie  Gray  hurls  math,  lessons  at  your 
head  a  yard  long,  and  the  masters  generally  shriek 
exhortations  at  you  as  though  you  were  deaf  as  well 
as  dumb." 

"Nonsense,  Jimmo!  I  am  right  glad  to  get  back." 
And  Tony  drew  in  a  deep  breath  of  the  cold  pure  air, 
and  his  eyes  glistened  as  he  looked  out  across  the 
snow-clad  landscape — the  white  town  clinging  to  its 
hills,  the  frozen  pond,  the  troubled  blue  waters  of 
the  bay.  "I've  never  seen  any  snow  to  speak  of,  you 
know;  think  of  the  sliding  down  Deal  Hill!  Mind, 
old  boy,  we're  to  pack  over  to  Level's  Woods  this 
afternoon  and  see  to  a  cave." 

"Gemini  crickets!  Deering,  you'll  get  enough  of 
the  Woods  before  the  winter's  over.     Me  for  the 

71 


72  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

form-room  and  a  heart  to  heart  talk  with  my  loving 
schoolmates." 

"Be  an  old  woman  if  you  like,"  interrupted  Kit 
Wilson,  who  joined  them  at  this  moment.  ''Tony 
and  I  will  find  the  cave,  and  you've  got  to  pony  up 
the  first  supply  of  grub." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a  grand  air, 
as  the  three  boys  climbed  into  a  fly.  "If  you  will 
direct  the  coachman  of  this  equipage  to  stop  at  the 
Pie-house,  I  will  give  Mrs.  Wadmer  a  carte  hlanche 
order  for  the  proper  supplies;  and  we'll  have  a  feed 
to-morrow  afternoon.  At  present,  I'm  perished  with 
cold." 

By  this  time  the  driver  had  applied  the  whip  to 
his  poor  horse,  and  the  dilapidated  fly  was  crawling 
up  the  cobblestones  of  Montgomery  street.  Once 
the  top  of  the  hill  was  gained,  it  moved  along  more 
rapidly,  and  soon  Monday  Port  was  left  behind,  the 
icy  shores  of  Deal  Water  had  been  skirted,  and 
the  long  hill  that  led  up  to  the  school  was  being 
climbed.  The  school  "barge,"  filled  with  a  shouting, 
laughing  crowd  of  small  boys,  was  lumbering  along 
ahead  of  them,  and  a  dozen  or  so  more  cabs  such  as 
our  friends  had  chartered  dotted  the  white  road. 
They  passed  a  few  of  these,  and  noisy  greetings  were 
exchanged. 

"There's  a  trifling  pleasure  in  seeing  the  kids  once 
more,"  said  Jimmie,  settling  back  after  they  had 
passed  the  barge,  and  assuming  a  hlase  expression. 
"It  would  be  rather  jolly  to  be  a  prefect  and  boss 
'em  all  about  .  .  .  Whoa-up!  here's  the  Pie-house 
and  there's  Mother  Wadmer  in  the  doorway  with 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  73 

a  smile  of  welcome  as  broad  as  her  pocketbook  is 
deep.  Hello,  Mrs.  Wadmer,"  he  cried,  as  the  cab 
drew  up  before  a  small  frame  house  by  the  roadside, 
on  the  portico  of  which  stood  a  tall  angular  CsBsarean 
dame,  with  a  calico  apron  drawn  over  her  head. 

''How  de  do.  Master  Lawrence;  howdy,  boys. 
Come  right  in,  and  I'll  give  you  a  glass  of  the  best 
cider  you've  ever  tasted.  'Tis  Mister  Wadmer's  own 
brew,  and  a  fine  thing  to  begin  the  term  on." 

The  three  boys  piled  out  of  the  fly,  and  in  a  moment 
were  merrily  greeting  the  crowd  of  youngsters  who 
already  had  estabhshed  themselves  about  the  long  deal 
table  in  Mrs.  Wadmer's  hospitable  kitchen.  ''Hello, 
Jim!"  "Hello,  Kit!"  "  Hello,  Tony,"  and  a  dozen  other 
names,  nicknames  or  parts  of  names,  rang  out.  The 
boys  shook  hands,  exchanged  rapid  notes  of  vacation 
experiences,  gulped  down  several  glasses  of  cider, 
and  consumed  a  score  or  so  of  luscious  tarts. 

"When  did  you  get  back,  Tack?"  Kit  enquired  of 
a  large,  ungainly,  rosy-cheeked  boy  who  came  from 
Maine. 

"This  morning,"  answered  Turner.  "I  came  down 
on  the  boat  last  night  to  New  York — scrumptious 
time.    Say,  Kit,  have  you  heard  the  latest  at  school? 

"No,  we  just  got  in,  crawled  across  the  flats  from 
Coventry.    What's  up?  " 

"What's  up?  why,  some  meddlesome  jackanapes 
in  the  Sixth  got  wise  to  something  irregular  last 
winter  and  has  gone  to  the  Doctor  with  a  doleful 
tale  about  the  wickedness  that's  supposed  to  go  on 
in  the  Woods;  so  the  fiat  has  gone  forth:  no  caves  for 
boys  below  the  Fourth." 


74  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"No  caves!"  shouted  a  dozen  boys.  A  storm  of 
protests  and  exclamations  arose.  "Well,"  said  Jimmie, 
as  the  hubbub  ceased,  "school  will  be  a  jolly  old 
jumping-off  place  then." 

"No  caves  for  boys  below  the  Fourth,"  echoed' 
Kit.  "Well,  I  announce  my  promotion  then.  Come 
on,  Tony;  come  on,  Jim;  let's  get  up  to  school  and 
get  the  facts." 

They  stalked  out  amidst  howls  of  derision,  and 
re-entered  their  chariot.  Jimmie  had  taken  care, 
however,  to  direct  Mrs.  Wadmer  to  stack  it  well  with 
such  provisions  as  were  in  customary  requisition  in 
Lovel's  Woods.  The  worthy  landlady  of  the  Pie- 
house  was  officially  deaf  to  all  rules  that  emanated 
from  the  Head  unless  they  were  presented  to  her  in 
writing.  She  owed,  it  may  be  said  in  parenthesis, 
her  long  career  under  the  shadow  of  Deal  School  to 
the  admirable  loyalty  of  many  generations  of  Deal 
boys. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  to  Tony's  amusement  as  he 
watched  Jimmie's  expression,  the  first  person  they 
met  in  the  Old  School  whither  they  went  at  once  to 
report,  was  Mr.  Roylston,  who  held  a  roll-call  in  his 
hands  and  wore  on  his  face  a  look  of  patient  suffering 
and  in  his  eyes  an  expression  of  latent  indignation. 
Our  friends,  thanks  to  their  digression  at  the  Pie- 
house,  were  ten  minutes  late. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Roylston?"  exclaimed  Kit, 
offering  his  hand,  and  receiving  three  of  the  master's 
lifeless  fingers.  A  pencil  occupied  the  other  two. 
"Ah!"  he  murmured, —Kit  afterwards  declared,  with 
satisfaction, — "Lawrence,  Wilson,  Deering — ten  min- 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  75 

utes  late.  I  congratulate  you  on  the  punctual  way  in 
which  you  begin  the  new  year." 

''Oh,  sir,  we  were  beguiled  by  the  way,"  protested 
the  irrepressible  Kit.  "The  woman  beguiled  me,  sir, 
and  I  did  eat." 

"Faugh!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Roylston.  "Spare  me 
your  coarse  irreverence.  You  are  redolent  of  the 
unpleasant  odors  of  the  Pie-house.  I  will  give  you 
five  marks  apiece." 

"Oh,  sir!" 

"Please,  sir!" 

"I  beg  of  you,  sir.    Pray  divide  'em,  sir." 

"Silence,  Wilson;  you  are  impertinent  as  well  as 
irreverent.  If  you  linger  longer  with  this  futile  pro- 
testing, I  shall  double  your  marks.  Kindly  go  at 
once  and  unpack  your  trunks." 

"Please,  sir;  we  always  do  that  in  the  evening,  sir; 
and  I  hope  you  will  allow  us  to  go  to  the  form-room, 
sir." 

"Don't  'sir'  me  so.  Write  out  for  me  before  to- 
morrow's school  fifty  lines  of  the  iEneid,  and  go  at 
once." 

"Very  good,  sir!"  And  lest  they  all  get  a  similar 
dose  of  "pensum,"  as  such  punishments  were  called, 
they  hurried  off  to  the  Third  Form  common-room. 
There  they  found  a  crowd  of  newly-arrived  boys, 
engaged  in  a  vociferous  denunciation  of  the  Doctor's 
new  rule  against  caves  in  the  Woods.  The  news  had 
evidently  been  announced  by  the  prefects. 

"What  a  gloomy  old  piece  of  rubber  the  Gumshoe 
is!"  muttered  ICit,  as  they  were  entering.  "Fancy 
soaking  me  a  pensum  two  minutes  after  I'm  back  at 


76  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

school.  Hey,  you  fellows!"  he  cried,  "what's  this 
racket?" 

A  dozen  boys  started  to  explain  together,  so  that 
from  their  noisy  chatter  nothing  could  be  gathered, 
except  "Woods,"  "caves"  and  execrations  on  the 
Head  and  the  Sixth,  with  Kit's  lament  on  the  gloomy 
Mr.  Roylston  rising  above  it  all  Hke  a  dismal 
howl. 

A  Fourth  Form  boy, — Barney  Clayton,  by  name, — 
thrust  a  red  head  through  the  open  doorway.  "Oh, 
fy!"  he  yelled,  "what  a  precious  howl  you  kids  are 
letting  out!  What's  the  matter?  does  the  prohibition 
against  caves  rile  your  independent  spirits?" 

"Get  out,  you  red-head!"  rose  in  angry  chorus; 
and  one  boy  shied  a  dog-eared  Latin  book  at  the 
fiery  shock  in  the  doorway.  In  a  second  a  shower  of 
missiles, — ink-stands,  books,  chairs,  waste-paper  bas- 
ket,— went  flying  through  the  doorway  and  out  into 
the  corridor.  Barney  ducked  his  head  and  fled, 
shouting  back  derisive  taunts.  The  commotion  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Mr.  Roylston  at  his  post 
in  the  main  hall,  and  he  came  flying  to  quell  the 
disturbance.  And,  alas!  he  arrived  just  at  a  moment 
to  receive  full  in  the  face  the  contents  of  a  waste- 
paper  basket,  which  Kit  had  flung.  The  debris  de- 
scended upon  him  in  comical  fashion.  The  poor 
gentleman  was  speechless  with  indignation;  but  the 
situation  was  too  much  for  the  boys;  despite  his  angry 
countenance,  his  blazing  black  eyes,  they  greeted 
his  appearance  with  shouts  of  laughter. 

He  waited,  inarticulate  with  rage,  until  the  commo- 
tion ceased,  finally  quelling  them  to  a  spell-bound 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  77 

silence  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  anger,  and  a  little 
also,  by  the  righteousness  of  his  cause. 

"  In  the  whole  course  of  my  career  as  a  schoolmaster," 
the  master  said  at  last,  with  a  nervous  jerk  to  each 
phrase,  but  pronouncing  each  word  with  the  deadly 
precision  of  a  judge  uttering  a  capital  sentence,  "I 
have  never  been  met  with  such  gratuitous  insult. 
Every  member  of  this  form  will  consider  himself  on 
bounds  until  further  notice.  As  for  you,  Wilson,  you 
shall  be  reported  immediately  to  the  Head,  and  if  my 
recommendation  can  effect  it,  you  will  receive  the 
caning  you  deserve." 

''We  were  not  throwing  at  you — we  didn't  know 
you  were  coming — "  began  Kit. 

"Silence!  do  not  add  hypocrisy  to  insolence.  You 
had  been  told  to  go  to  your  rooms.  .  .  .  Disperse 
now  at  once,  and  do  not  show  yourselves  before  supper. 
You  Wilson,  Lawrence  and  Deering,  remain  behind 
and  clean  up  this  disgusting  mess.  It  is  not  surprising, 
I  may  say,  that  the  Head  feels  himself  unable  to 
trust  this  form  in  the  Woods  this  winter."  And  with 
this  parting  shot,  Mr.  Roylston  turned  and  walked 
away,  with  what  dignity  he  could  command. 

The  boys,  somewhat  subdued  by  the  dispiriting 
announcement  of  bounds,  marched  off  gloomily,  and 
our  three  friends  stayed  behind  and  began  to  clear 
up  the  debris. 

"Well,"  said  Kit  at  last,  turning  a  half -merry,  half- 
rueful  countenance  to  his  companions,  as  he  seated 
himself  upon  a  broken  chair,  "what  a  gloomy  ass  it  is! 
But,  oh  my  dears,  did  you  observe  his  beautiful  pea- 
green,  Nile  blue,  ultramarine  phiz  as  the  contents 


78  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

of  the  waste  basket  descended  upon  his  lean  and 
hairless  chops?  Oh,  my!  what  a  home-coming!  what 
a  sweet  heart  to  heart  talk  we've  all  had  together!" 

''And  a  jolly  good  caning  you'll  get,  Kitty,  when 
Gumshoe  has  had  his  talk  with  the  Doctor." 

"Jolly  good,"  replied  Kit,  rubbing  his  legs  with 
a  wry  face.  "But  in  the  meantime,  mes  enfants," 
he  continued,  "since  I  am  to  be  swished,  it  shall  not 
be  that  I  suffer  unjustly;  we  are  going  to  make  the 
swishing  worth  while.  We  are  off  to  the  Woods  this 
minute.  We'll  take  the  stuff  over,  stow  it  in  the  cave, 
put  up  a  notice,  and  be  back  by  supper.  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I'll  pay  any  attention  to  Gumshoe's  twaddle  about 
bounds  or  to  the  Doctor's  nonsense  about  caves. 
Are  you  with  me,  Jimmie,  old  boy?  " 

"Well,  rather,"  Jimmie  replied.  "The  experience 
of  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  has  quite  discouraged 
me  with  regard  to  the  peace  and  quiet  and  healthy 
conversation  us  nice  boys  ought  to  have  in  form 
common-room. ' ' 

Tony  had  kept  silent.  "Well,  are  you  going  to  cut 
for  a  quitter?"  asked  Kit,  turning  upon  him  with  an 
indignant  glare. 

"Not  I,"  said  Tony  quickly. 

"Then  help  stow  this  truck.  We've  an  hour  and 
a  half  till  supper,  and  the  Gumshoe  will  undoubtedly 
think  we  have  disperrssed  to  our  rooms."  And  he 
gave  an  absurd  imitation  of  Mr.  Roylston's  manner 
of  speaking. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  were  running  down  the 
slope  of  Deal  Hill,  under  the  cover  of  the  stone  walls; 
then  tearing  across  the  frozen  marshes,  and  clambering 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  79 

up  the  steep  banks  and  crags  that  bounded  the  west 
side  of  Lovel's  Woods.  The  sun  was  sinking  in  the 
west,  and  its  rich  mellow  golden  light  fell  athwart 
the  snow-clad  woodland,  flooding  it  with  glory,  save 
where  the  great  masses  of  pine  and  cedar  cast  broad 
splotches  of  shadow.  The  splendid  loveliness  of  the 
dying  afternoon,  the  biting  cold  of  the  wind,  the  thrill 
of  doing  the  forbidden,  filled  Tony  with  a  delicious 
sense  of  happiness  and  adventure. 

Each  boy  had  his  arms  full  of  cooking  utensils, 
food,  boxes — the  varied  paraphernalia  of  a  cave. 
It  had  been  an  ancient  custom  at  Deal  during  the 
winter  for  boys  to  have  caves  in  Level's  Woods, 
where  they  cooked  weird  messes  dm-ing  the  afternoons 
when  there  was  no  skating.  This  year  the  Doctor, 
owing  to  certain  abuses  reported  by  the  prefects  the 
year  before,  had  decided  to  restrict  the  use  of  caves 
to  the  three  upper  forms. 

Kit  had  a  particular  cave  in  mind,  far  away  on  the 
remote  side  of  what  was  known  as  the  Third  Ridge, 
a  cave  that  he  and  Jimmie  and  Teddy  Lansing  had 
had  together  the  year  before  as  Second  Formers.  This 
desirable  spot  was  a  natural  formation  in  the  rocky 
side  of  the  farther  of  the  three  ridges  of  which  Lovel's 
Woods  consisted.  It  was  practically  inaccessible  from 
below,  and  the  entrance  above,  well  concealed  by  a 
clump  of  low  cedars,  was  a  narrow  cleft  in  the  rocks, 
at  the  extreme  edge  of  which  the  initiated  might 
descend  to  the  cave  by  a  series  of  dangerous  steps 
which  the  boys  had  fashioned  in  the  side  of  the  pre- 
cipitous cliff. 

Tony  and  Kit  climbed  down  into  the  cave,  while 


80  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Jimmie,  lying  flat  on  the  ledge  above,  handed  down 
to  them  the  supply  of  stores.  These  were  safely 
stowed  in  a  strong  box,  which  had  lasted  out  the 
previous  season,  and  made  secure.  When  the  boys 
had  clambered  up  again,  they  discovered  that  the 
sun  had  set  and  the  darkness  was  gathering  swiftly. 
The  clear  crescent  of  the  new  moon  hung  in  the  western 
sky  a  band  of  gold,  and  the  evening  star  was  rising 
over  the  ocean. 

"Twenty  minutes  to  supper:  we  can  just  make  it," 
exclaimed  Kit,  looking  at  his  watch.  ''Heave  ahead, 
my  hearties,  and  let's  run  for  it." 

And  run  they  did,  at  breakneck  speed  along  the 
mazy  paths,  through  the  tangled  undergrowth,  over 
the  slippery  crags,  across  the  frozen  marsh.  Kit, 
the  imprudent,  was  impudently  singing  at  the  top 
of  his  shrill  voice  the  verses  of  one  of  the  School 
songs. 

"Out  of  the  briny  east, 
Out  of  the  frosty  north, 
Over  the  school-topp'd  hill, 
Whistle  the  shrill  winds  forth. 

"Over  the  waves  a-quiver, 
Over  the  salt  sedge  grass, 
Over  the  beaches  tawny, 
The  bright  wind  spirits  pass." 

And  the  other  two  boys  took  up  the  ringing  refrain, 

"Grapple  them  e'er  they  go, 
Grapple  them  e'er  they  go." 

Luck  was  with  them.  They  reached  the  school 
as  the  great  bell  in  the  Chapel  struck  six.    Five  min- 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  81 

utes  later,  after  a  hasty  wash  and  brush-up  in  their 
rooms,  they  were  in  the  great  library,  shaking  hands 
with  the  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Forester  and  with  masters 
and  boys. 

The  three,  more  closely  united  than  ever  by  their 
sense  of  sharing  a  dangerous  secret,  kept  together 
during  chapel,  and  directly  after  were  for  making 
off  to  Jimmie's  room,  when  Sandy  Maclaren,  looking 
wonderfully  handsome  and  "swagger"  in  his  town 
clothes,  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  Kit's  shoulder.  "Not 
so  fast,  boy.  The  Doctor  wants  to  see  you  instanter 
at  the  Rectory." 

Kit  heaved  a  sigh  in  mock  heroics.  "Hail,  blithe 
spirits,"  he  lamented,  murdering  his  quotation,  "hail 
and  farewell." 

The  boys  pressed  his  hands  heartily.  "Is  it  a 
caning,  Sandy?"  they  asked. 

"Well,  I  rather  think  so,"  answered  Maclaren, 
with  a  smile.  "You  weren't  very  keen  not  to  dis- 
tinguish between  Barney  Clayton  and  Mr.  Roylston." 

"They  were  both  butting  in,"  protested  Kit. 

"Well,  cut  along  now.  And  you  two  report  to  Bill, 
he's  looking  for  you." 

Kit  found  the  Doctor  in  his  comfortable  study  at 
the  Rectory,  standing  before  a  glowing  log  fire,  with 
his  swallow-tails  spread  to  the  blaze. 

"Ah,  Christopher,"  the  Head  Master  exclaimed, 
shaking  hands  with  the  culprit,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Maclaren  said  you  wanted  to 
see  me  particularly?" 

"I  do,  most  particularly.     Take  off  your  coat." 

Kit  backed  a  little.    "But,  sir " 


82  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Yes,  my  boy,  I  dare  say  you  have  full  and  ample 
explanations,  but  I  am  quite  sure  they  will  not  impress 
me.  I  know  that  you  were  but  one  of  many  in  this 
fracas,  and  that  it  is  your  misfortune — shall  I  say? — 
rather  than  your  fault  that  your  particular  missile 
took  unfortunate  effect.  But  we  must  all  suffer  at 
times  for  our  mistakes,  perhaps  a  little  unjustly.  The 
moment  has  struck  when  you  must  suffer  too.  The 
sooner  we  get  at  this  business  the  sooner  it  will  be 
over.' 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Kit,  and  silently  removed 
his  coat.  And  then  the  Doctor  took  a  familiar  im- 
plement of  stout  old  hickory  from  a  corner,  and 
swished  him  soundly.  Those  were  the  happy  days 
when  debts  against  school  discipHne  were  so  quickly 
and  effectively  liquidated. 

Kit  bore  no  grudge  to  the  Doctor,  and  compara- 
tively little  to  Mr.  Roylston.  "It  was  worth  it," 
he  confessed  to  Jimmie  and  Tony  afterwards,  "and 
I  rather  think  this  lets  me  out,  conscientiously  lets 
me  out,  you  know,  from  paying  attention  to  his  futile 
announcement  of  bounds." 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  Doctor's  prohibition 
against  Lovel's  Woods  was  about  as  unpopular  a  rule 
as  had  ever  been  promulgated.  Combined  with  the 
fact  that  the  Third  Form  were  bounded  for  a  month, 
as  a  consequence  of  their  trouble  with  Mr.  Roylston, 
the  Lower  School  began  the  term  in  a  bad  mood.  The 
Third  Formers  were  particularly  disgruntled  with  the 
prefects,  who  had  assumed  the  responsibility  of  keep- 
ing Lovel's  Woods  in  order.  It  appeared  that  smoking 
had  been  indulged  in  the  year  before  quite  extensively 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  83 

by  some  of  the  younger  boys,  and  gambling  was 
suspected  on  the  part  of  a  few  of  the  older  ones.  The 
Doctor's  rule  had  been  more  in  the  nature  of  a  pre- 
ventive than  a  punishment. 

But  the  effort  to  keep  the  rule  effective  was  more 
of  an  undertaldng  than  the  prefects  had  realized; 
for  they  felt  themselves  required  practically  to  police 
the  forbidden  district,  a  task,  the  novelty  of  which 
soon  wore  off.  With  the  older  boys  caves  were  not 
particularly  popular.  Chapin  and  Marsh  started  one 
together,  and  moved  into  it  the  paraphernalia  that 
they  had  hitherto  kept  stored  in  the  cave  on  the 
beach  by  Beaver  Creek.  All  of  the  prefects,  acting 
on  Maclaren's  advice,  gave  up  their  caves  in  order 
to  set  an  example;  with  the  result  that  there  were 
hardly  more  than  a  dozen  in  official  operation. 

For  the  first  few  weeks  of  the  term  the  prefects 
were  so  zealous  in  their  police  duties  that  few  boys 
cared  to  run  the  risk  of  "skipping"  to  the  Woods. 
Even  our  three  friends,  despite  their  firm  resolution 
to  evade  the  rule,  for  the  time  being  felt  it  the  part 
of  wisdom  to  he  low.  Accordingly  they  avoided  the 
Woods  as  if  it  were  plague  stricken  and  industriously 
played  hockey  every  afternoon  on  Deal  Great  Pond, 
which  was  fully  two  miles  away.  But  toward  the  end 
of  January  a  thaw  set  in,  the  skating  was  spoiled, 
a  heavy  snow  came,  and  their  usual  sports  were  inter- 
rupted; consequently  the  temptation  to  visit  the  cave 
sub  rosa  grew  stronger  than  ever.  Gradually  also  the 
inclement  weather  dampened  the  ardor  of  the  pre- 
fects and  they  began  to  relax  their  vigilance  over  the 
forbidden  territory.    And  we  may  say  in  passing  that 


84  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Tony  and  Jimmie  and  Kit  spent  several  delightful 
afternoons  in  their  hiding-place,  and  the  parts  of  one 
or  two  wildly  thrilling  nights  after  lights. 

Despite  his  nefarious  proceedings  in  contravention 
of  the  rules,  be  it  said  to  his  credit,  Tony  was  making 
good  his  resolution  of  "poHng"  at  his  books,  and  felt 
confident  of  taking  a  good  stand  in  the  school  when 
the  ranks  were  read  at  the  beginning  of  February. 
The  football  game,  so  far  as  his  part  in  it  was  con- 
cerned, as  Morris  had  predicted,  seemed  forgotton. 
He  avoided  Chapin  as  much  as  he  could,  and  when 
they  inevitably  met  he  treated  him  with  a  courteous 
indifference  which  the  older  boy  doubtless  understood 
and  was  thankful  to  accept. 

Carroll,  after  a  vacation  spent  in  New  York  where 
he  had  seen  all  of  the  plays  and  dined  at  the  best 
restaurants  and  gone  to  many  more  dances  than  were 
good  for  his  health,  returned  to  the  school  more  than 
ever  dissatisfied  and  disgruntled  with  the  life  he  led 
in  it.  The  talk  with  Mr.  Morris  about  Tony,  the 
consciousness  that  they  possessed  an  important  secret 
in  common,  served  a  little  to  make  his  relations  with 
his  house  master  easier,  but  he  was  still  unable  to 
give  his  friendship  in  the  easy  way  he  longed  to  give 
it.  Neither,  to  his  deepening  chagrin  and  regret,  was 
he  making  progress  in  his  friendship  with  Deering, 
for  Tony  was  more  than  ever  absorbed  in  the  life  of 
his  form,  and  spent  all  his  free  time  with  Wilson  and 
Lawrence.  He  seemed  unconscious  of  the  affection 
he  had  won  from  Carroll  and  this,  with  Carroll's 
intense  consciousness  of  how  completely  his  affection 
was  going  out,  served  to  make  their  relations  anything 


LOVEL'S  WOODS  85 

but  free  and  spontaneous.  So  far  as  Tony  thought 
about  his  room-mate  that  term  it  was  as  of  an  older 
fellow  with  whom  he  was  not  very  congenial,  and  of 
whose  laziness  and  indifferent  attitude  toward  the 
school  he  did  not  approve.  He  thought  Carroll  to 
be  wasting  his  time  both  at  his  books  and  in  the 
school  life,  in  either  of  which  he  could  have  counted  im- 
mensely. Had  Tony  been  less  absorbed  in  his  younger 
friends,  he  would  probably  have  found  a  good  deal  in 
Reggie  to  like  and  value,  as  earUer  in  the  year  he  had 
begun  to  feel  he  should. 

From  his  cozy  den  in  the  midst  of  Standerland  Hall, 
surrounded  by  his  well-loved  books,  his  few  but 
carefully  chosen  pictures,  Mr.  Morris  watched  the 
life  throbbing  about  him  with  sympathetic  insight 
and  keen  interest.  He  was  not  one  of  those  fortunate 
schoolmasters  who  do  not  allow  their  profession  to 
engage  their  affections.  Morris,  with  a  surrender 
that  was  effectually  a  sacrifice,  for  he  had  gifts  and 
opportunities  that  might  have  won  him  a  finer  place 
in  the  world,  gave  his  life  completely  to  the  school. 
He  had  loved  it  as  a  boy,  he  had  looked  back  upon  it 
during  college  with  fond  recollection  and  yearning, 
and  after  three  years  or  so  at  a  professional  school, 
having  taken  his  examinations  for  the  bar,  he  had 
gone  back  to  accept  Dr.  Forester's  offer  of  a  master- 
ship. For  half-a-dozen  years  he  had  been  there  now, 
and  each  year  the  place  and  the  boys  got  a  deeper 
hold  upon  his  heart  and  his  interest.  He  was  scru- 
pulously fair  and  evenly  kind;  therefore  deservedly 
popular;  but  despite  this  he  had  his  favorite  boys,  not 
usually  known  as  such  by  the  school  at  large,  to  whom 


86  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

he  gave  a  special  affection  and  a  deeper  interest. 
From  the  first  day,  when  Deering,  with  his  sparkling 
eyes  and  bright,  clear-cut,  eager  face,  had  come  to 
him  for  a  seat  in  the  schoolroom,  he  had  felt  for  him 
that  keen  attraction  which,  as  he  grew  to  know  the 
boy's  high  spirits,  lively  sense  of  honor,  and  sunshiny 
nature,  had  deepened  to  a  real  affection.  In  Carroll 
also  he  had  always  felt  a  special  interest,  and  had  been 
glad  when  Tony  was  put  to  room  with  him.  He 
saw  Reggie's  growing  devotion  to  Deering,  and  was 
sorry  that  Tony  did  not  respond  to  a  greater  extent. 
Morris  felt  that  Carroll  needed  the  strengthening 
influence  of  a  strong  unselfish  friendship  with  the 
right  sort  of  boy  to  help  make  a  man  of  him.  Occasion- 
ally Morris  had  the  two  boys  with  others  in  his  rooms 
for  tea  or  on  Saturday  nights  for  a  rarebit  and  a  bit 
of  supper,  but  otherwise  occasions  did  not  present 
themselves  for  his  getting  to  know  them  better.  He 
was  sorry  for  this,  but  saw  no  very  satisfactory  way 
of  making  them.  By  the  end  of  January  it  seemed 
to  him  that  Reggie  was  in  quite  the  worst  attitude 
that  he  had  ever  been,  thoroughly  indifferent  to  the 
work  and  life  of  the  school. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK 


That  winter  proved  to  be  a  hard  one,  with  frequent 
snows  and  violent  winds,  which  put  an  end  to  the 
skating  within  a  few  weeks  after  Christmas,  and  left 
the  majority  of  the  boys  with  no  very  satisfactory 
pastime  in  the  free  afternoons.  There  was  sUding 
down  Deal  Hill  a  good  part  of  the  time,  and  to  Tony, 
who  never  before  had  experienced  the  pleasures  of  a 
northern  winter,  this  was  great  fun;  but  after  a  time 
it  palled  upon  his  two  cronies,  Jimmie  and  Kit,  and 
at  their  suggestion  surreptitious  visits  to  the  cave  in 
Lovel's  Woods  became  more  frequent.  Perhaps  that 
this  was  a  forbidden  pleasure  added  a  keener  zest 
than  they  otherwise  would  have  taken  in  it,  and  that 
several  boys  had  recently  been  caught  in  the  Woods 
and  punished  severely  gave  an  element  of  danger  to 
their  visits  that  made  them  even  more  fascinating. 
Aside  from  the  disobedience  that  these  visits  involved, 
they  were  innocent  enough.  The  boys,  having  re- 
ported at  call-over  for  a  walk,  would  skirt  the  beaches 
and  enter  the  Woods  from  the  east,  completely  out 
of  range  of  the  school  and  comparatively  safe  from 
detection  unless  they  chanced  to  encounter  prefects 
or  masters  walking  in  the  Woods  themselves.  The 
indefatigable  Mr.  Gray  often  bent  his  steps  in  that 

87 


88  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

direction,  but  to  the  school's  intense  deUght,  without 
noticeable  result.  The  snows  were  so  heavy  and  the 
walking  consequently  so  difficult  that  the  vigilance 
of  masters  and  prefects  at  last  completely  relaxed. 
From  that  time  on  the  boys  who  cared  for  the  trouble 
had  a  fairly  clear  field.  Our  friends  were  fortunate 
in  having  a  cave  on  the  extreme  eastern  edge  of  the 
woods,  so  that  the  approach  from  the  beach  was  easy. 
Once  this  was  gained,  they  made  a  fire,  cooked  sausages, 
fried  pan-cakes  of  an  extremely  leathery  quality,  and 
made  coffee  that  certainly  they  would  not  have  drunk 
in  any  other  place. 

Tony  had  told  Carroll  of  their  exploits,  and  had  even 
invited  him  to  pay  them  a  visit  and  partake  of  their 
"feed,"  an  invitation  that  was  decisively  declined. 
"It  is  certainly  not  worth  while,"  he  replied,  with  a 
smile,  "to  run  the  risk  of  getting  the  Doctor  quite 
sour  on  me  for  the  pleasure  of  partaking  of  the  results 
of  your  culinary  skill." 

"A  great  deal  better  for  you,"  Tony  retorted,  "than 
moping  in  doors  half  the  time  over  sickly  French 
novels." 

"Possibly;  but  French  novels  are  not  the  only 
alternative  to  the  Woods,"  Reggie  answered,  "and 
as  a  matter  of  fact  I  have  begun  to  go  in  for  tremendous 
tramps." 

"You  must  take  'em  mostly  at  night,  then." 

"I  do  frequently,"  was  the  somewhat  tart  reply, 
"the  night  air  has  always  had  a  fascination  for 
me." 

In  truth  Tony  was  aware  that  Reggie  had  resumed 
his  old  custom  of  disappearing  from  their  rooms  after 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  89 

lights,  paying  visits,  he  incuriously  supposed,  upon 
some  of  his  friends.  The  fact  gave  him  little 
thought. 

One  afternoon  the  three  boys  were  in  their  cave. 
Tony  was  turning  pan-cakes  in  a  skillet,  while  Jimmie 
was  laboring  with  a  dark  mixture  that  they  euphe- 
mistically called  coffee.  Kit  sat  on  the  branch  of  a 
tree,  with  his  head  over  the  ledge,  on  the  look-out 
for  any  wandering  prefects. 

''Hurry  up,  you  frabjous  duffers,"  he  called  down, 
midst  a  stream  of  amiable  chaflSng;  "it's  close  upon 
four,  and  we'll  have  to  bolt  the  grub  in  order  to  get 
back  to  Gumshoe's  five  o'clock." 

''Why  don't  you  get  down  and  work  a  bit,  then? 
Nobody's  coming  along  this  late.  Get  the  plates  out, 
and  pour  some  syrup  out  of  the  jug.  No  workt  no 
eat." 

"Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth,"  he  laughed.  .  .  . 
"Shish! "  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  and  ducked  his  head 
below  the  ledge. 

The  three  kept  a  tense  silence  for  a  moment.  They 
heard  footsteps  crunching  in  the  snow  above  and 
passing  on.  Kit  cautiously  peeped  over  the  ledge. 
"By  Jove,"  he  whispered,  "it's  Reggie  Carroll  and 
Arty  Chapin.    I  thought  it  was  a  couple  of  prefects." 

He  slid  down  from  the  tree,  and  began  to  gobble 
up  one  of  Tony's  pan-cakes.  "By  the  by,  Tony,  I 
thought  the  elegant  Reginald  Carter  Westover  Carroll 
had  severed  his  friendship  with  that  specimen  of 
common  Chapin  clay." 

"So  he  had,"  answered  Tony,  musingly.  "I  didn't 
know  they  had  taken  up  with  each  other  again.'* 


90  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"What  a  queer  duck  Reggie  is,"  said  Jimmie,  as 
he  poured  out  three  cups  of  coffee.  ''Have  you  ever 
made  him  out,  Tony?" 

"Not  I.  We  hit  it  off  well  enough  after  the  first 
few  days — for  a  time.  But  this  term  I  have  hardly 
seen  anything  of  him.  I  am  sorry  he  is  in  with  Chapin 
again." 

"And  I.  I've  always  liked  Reggie  despite  his 
supercilious  disdain,  but  Arty's  a  beast,  and  always 
was,"  said  Kit,  drinking  his  coffee  at  a  gulp,  "Here, 
let's  stow  these  things,  and  cut  around  to  the  north 
and  take  a  peep  as  to  what  that  precious  pair  are  up  to. 
Evidently  no  five  o'clock  for  them." 

"What's  the  difference  where  they  are  going?" 
said  Tony.    "I  have  no  mind  to  spy  on  them." 

"Well,  I  have  a  consuming  curiosity,"  Kit  rejoined. 
"They're  up  to  mischief,  I'll  be  bound." 

"Light  out  then,"  said  Tony,  "for  Jim  and  I  are 
going  back  over  the  ridges." 

"And  leave  your  precious  footprints  in  the  snow," 
protested  Kit.  "La!  la!  stow  the  stuff,  will  you  then? 
I'll  report  if  there's  anything  doing." 

And  despite  his  companions'  adjurations  Kit  clam- 
bered off  over  the  rocks  and  started  out  in  the  direction 
indicated  by  Carroll's  and  Chapin's  footsteps  in  the 
snow. 

The  boys  got  safely  back  without  being  detected, 
but  Kit  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  late,  and  created  a 
sad  disturbance  when  he  entered  in  the  midst  of 
Mr.  Roylston's  Third  Latin  recitation. 

"The  incorrigible  Wilson,"  remarked  Mr.  Roylston, 
without  turning  his  beady  black  eyes  in  his  direction, 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  91 

"will  kindly  take  a  pensum  of  one  hundred  lines  for 
being  late  and  disturbing  the  class." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Kit. 

"Spare  me  your  comments,  pray.  Continue  your 
recitation.  Turner;  Book  Four,  Chapter  Fourteen, 
line  twenty.    Proceed.    Caesar — " 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  .  .  .  Qui  omnibus  rebus  subito 
perterriti — "  Tack  spelled  it  out  painfully,  and  fell 
mercilessly  upon  it,  "Who  to  all  quickly  having  been 
thoroughly  terrified.  Et  celeritati  nostri  et  discessu 
suorum.  .  .  .  And  with  quickness  to  us  both  a 
descent.  ..." 

Mr.  Roylston  transfixed  the  floundering  youth 
with  a  withering  glance,  and  there  was  a  moment  of 
awful  silence.  "With  quickness  to  you,  I  may  suggest, 
Turner,"  he  said  at  last  in  scathing  tones,  "descent 
into  your  seat  and  a  zero  in  my  mark-book." 

He  turned  to  Kit.  "Wilson,  let  us  see  if  you  can 
cast  light  upon  the  darkness  into  which  Turner  has 
led  us." 

"I  am  afraid  I  can't,  sir." 

"No?"  murmm-ed  the  master.  "Well,  I  was  not 
hopeful,"  and  he  quietly  recorded  a  zero  in  his  mark- 
book.    ' '  Now,  Deering — ' ' 

Tony  took  up  the  passage,  and  got  through  it 
correctly  enough,  but  not  without  being  harassed  by 
Mr.  Roylston's  interruptions  and  glances  of  incredu- 
Uty  at  his  rendering  of  the  Latin.  The  Latin  recita- 
tions at  Deal  under  the  famous  Ebenezer  Roylston — 
he  was  the  editor  of  an  edition  of  Cicero  that  was 
classic  in  its  day — were  periods  of  agony  and  boredom. 
But  at  last  this  particular  recitation  came  to  an  end, 


92  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

and  immediately  afterward,  Kit  threw  his  arms  about 
the  necks  of  his  two  friends,  and  drew  them  into  a 
vacant  classroom. 

"Well?" 

"What's  up?" 

"Oh,  you  frabjous  kiddos!  I  tracked  'em  for  a 
mile — 'twas  a  mucker  trick,  I'll  admit,  but  I've  got  it 
in  for  Chapin.  And  what  do  you  think,  those  two 
blooming  jays  are  playing  poker  with  their  crowd  in 
a  shanty  back  of  the  Third  Ridge.  If  it  weren't  for 
Reggie,  I  swear  I'd  peach  on  Chapin." 

"I  swear  you'd  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Tony. 

"Well,  perhaps  not,"  assented  Kit,  temporarily 
crestfallen.  "But  I  must  say  that's  a  crummy  thing 
of  them  to  do.    Fine  school  spirit,  eh!" 

"Well,  we  have  been  skipping  bounds  pretty 
regularly  this  fall,  if  I  remember  correctly." 

"My  dear  child,"  remarked  Kit  paternally,  "when 
will  you  learn  wisdom?  The  Doctor  carefully  dis- 
tinguishes between  moral  offenses  and  offenses  against 
school  discipline.  Now,  bounds  are  obviously  dis- 
ciplinary and  not  moral ;  hence  we  are  mere  wandering 
angels,  while  those  poker  fiends  are  equally  hence  of 
the  lower  regions." 

"Rot ! "  was  the  courteous  rejoinder.  " It  is  obvious 
to  any  but  a  bonehead  like  yourself  that  the  Doctor 
imposed  bounds  this  year  for  moral  reasons,  because 
he  had  wind  that  just  that  sort  of  thing  was  going  on." 

"Ah!"  resumed  Kit  sarcastically.  "I  perceive  the 
glimmerings  of  a  conscience.  You  are  getting  the 
remorse  for  your  own  sins?" 

"Not  particularly.     I  am  only  objecting  to  the 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  93 

complacent  way  in  which  you  shove  Carroll  and 
Chapin  outside  the  pale  of  decency." 

"Well,  I'm  easy,  old  boy;  I  certainly  won't  be 
damned  for  making  pan-cakes  in  Lovel's  Woods;  but 
I  can  readily  see  that  Reggie  might  for  playing  poker 
there.  But  it  isn't  so  much  the  poker  I  object  to,  as 
his  beastly  taste  in  companions." 

"Thunder  and  blazes,  Kit,  what's  it  to  you  who 
Reggie  goes  with?  " 

"Nothing  much.  But  of  a  kindness  warn  your 
room-mate  against  Arty;  he  is  an  awful  bounder  and 
always  was." 

"Well,"  answered  Tony,  "Reggie  knows  him  better 
than  we  do;  and  it  is  certainly  not  my  business  to 
give  him  advice.  Come  on;  let's  quit  this  jaw,  and  go 
in  to  supper." 

Disposed  as  Tony  had  been  openly  to  defend  Carroll 
against  this  criticism,  he  condemned  him  yet  the  more 
severely  in  his  heart.  He  knew  that  Reggie  reaUzed  the 
defects  of  Chapin's  character;  that  he  was  spoiling  his 
chances  of  a  prefectship  the  next  year  by  his  association 
with  him,  and  that  he  was  running  the  risk  of  public  ex- 
pulsion if  it  should  be  discovered  that  he  was  playing 
poker.  After  a  good  deal  of  hesitation  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  speak  to  Reggie  on  the  subject.  Accord- 
ingly he  waited  that  night  until  after  lights,  and  then 
slipped  over  to  Reggie's  room,  hoping  to  please  hira 
by  this  suggestion  of  renewing  their  nightly  talks.  But 
to  his  disappointment  Carroll  was  not  there.  Tony 
turned  back  into  the  study,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
at  the  window  looking  out  upon  the  white  campus, 
flooded  now  with  the  light  of  a  full  moon. 


94  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Suddenly  he  heard  the  latch  of  his  door  turn  and 
some  one  slip  into  the  room. 

"Hello,   Reggie,"   he  whispered,   "is  that  you?" 
"Shish!  no — it's  me — Kit,"  came  the  soft  reply. 
"Jimmie  is  outside — we're  going  to  the  Woods.    Get 
into  your  clothes  and  come  along." 

"Oh,  hang  the  Woods!"  exclaimed  Tony.  "I  am 
sleepy  and  want  to  go  to  bed." 

"Don't  be  a  quitter.  Jim's  got  a  box  from  home; 
we'll  have  a  bully  good  time,  and  we  can  get  back 
by  midnight.  Where's  your  precious  room-mate — 
gone  to  the  shanty?  " 

"I  don't  know — I  suppose  so." 
"Well,  perhaps  we'll  meet  him;  come  on." 
The  lark  proved  too  strong  a  temptation,  and  after 
a  little  more  persuasion,  Tony  yielded.  He  slipped 
on  his  trousers  and  a  sweater,  his  stockings  and  boots, 
and  a  coat,  and  was  ready.  The  two  boys  crept 
silently  down  the  corridor,  past  the  door  of  Mr.  Morris's 
room,  over  the  transom  of  which  a  bright  light  was 
shining,  and  down  the  stairs.  Once  Kit  tripped, 
and  they  sank  down  below  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
just  as  Mr.  Morris  opened  his  door  and  stood  at  it 
for  a  moment  listening.  Then  the  master  closed  his 
door  again,  and  the  boys  went  out  into  the  cold  frosty 
moonlight  night,  and  joined  Jimmie,  who  was  waiting 
for  them  at  the  fives-court. 

Morris,  however,  was  an  old  hand  at  his  business,  and 
not  a  clumsy  one.  He  stepped  into  his  bedroom,  which 
was  darkened,  and  going  to  the  window  stood  there 
watching.  Presently  he  saw  the  three  dark  figures, 
unrecognizable  at  the  distance,  creep  along  the  fives- 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  95 

court,  dash  across  to  the  cloister  that  led  from  Stander- 
land  to  the  Schoolhouse,  and  then  disappear  behind 
the  clump  of  trees  at  the  corner.  Confident  that  he 
had  heard  some  one  leaving  his  own  dormitory,  the 
master  then  made  his  rounds,  and  surely  enough 
found  that  Deering,  Lawrence  and  Wilson  were  miss- 
ing. Curiously  enough  Tony's  happened  to  be  the  last 
room  that  he  entered,  and  when  he  found  his  bedroom 
empty,  thus  being  sure  that  the  three  he  had  seen  were 
accounted  for,  he  neglected  to  look  into  Carroll's 
room,  and  returned  to  his  study  to  wait  for  their 
return. 

About  ten  o'clock  as  he  sat  before  his  fire,  meditating 
the  course  of  his  action,  a  rap  sounded  on  the  door, 
and  in  response  to  his  invitation,  Doctor  Forester 
came  in. 

*'Ah,  Morris,"  said  the  Head  Master,  coming  for- 
ward and  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  "I  am 
sorry  to  disturb  you  at  this  time  of  night;  but  there 
is  mischief  afoot,  and  perhaps  you  can  help  me  catch 
the  offenders." 

Morris  looked  at  the  Doctor  attentively,  but  for 
the  moment  did  not  volunteer  his  information. 

"This  afternoon,"  continued  the  Head,  ''Maclaren 
found  an  old  shanty  back  of  the  Third  Ridge,  rigged 
out  with  the  paraphernalia  of  a  poker  game.  It  has 
evidently  been  in  use,  and  from  the  character  of  the 
debris,  he  thinks,  by  some  of  our  boys.  Maclaren 
supposes  that  some  of  your  boys  have  been  getting 
out  at  nights,  and  may  be  the  culprits.  Is  that 
possible?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Morris,  "quite  possible.    I  should 


96  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

not  have  said  so  an  hour  ago,  for  I  keep  a  close  watch 
upon  that  sort  of  thing,  or  at  least  I  try  to;  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  three  of  my  boys  are  missing  at  this 
moment." 

''Who  are  they?"  asked  the  Doctor  sharply. 

"Lawrence,  Deering  and  Wilson." 

''What!  they  are  the  last  boys  in  the  School  that 
I  should  be  inclined  to  suspect  of  that  sort  of  thing, 
though  I  regret  to  say,  Maclaren  has  some  evidence 
that  I  fear  implicates  Deering.  Have  you  any  idea 
that  they  are  gone  to  the  Woods?" 

"I  fear  they  have,  sir.  I  heard  a  noise  in  the  hallway 
Of  half-hour  ago,  and  slipped  out  to  see  what  it  was. 
For  the  moment  I  supposed  I  had  been  mistaken, 
but  a  little  later  from  my  bedroom  window  I  saw  three 
boys  disappear  back  of  the  Schoolhousc.  I  did  not 
know  who  they  were  until  I  had  made  my  rounds, 
which  was  just  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"Well,  they  must  be  found.  If  they  are  implicated 
in  this  afifair  at  the  Third  Ridge  shanty  I  shall  deal 
with  them  severely.  Fine  boys,  too!  it's  a  great 
shame.  .  .  .  Maclaren  and  Cummings  are  waiting 
in  my  study;  I  will  go  and  give  them  this  clue." 

"  If  you  like,  sir,  I  will  go  for  you,  and  go  with  them." 

"I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would.  In  that  case, 
I  will  remain  here  until  your  return." 

Morris  put  on  his  great  coat  and  boots  and  started 
out,  while  the  Doctor  settled  himself  before  the  fire 
with  a  book.  A  little  later  the  master  with  the  two 
prefects  whom  he  had  found  at  the  Rectory,  set  out  for 
Lovel's  Woods. 

Early  in  the  evening  Thorndyke,  who  was  a  member 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  97 

of  the  crowd  that  frequented  the  shanty,  had  got  wind 
of  Maclaren's  discovery  through  Lawrence  Cumming's 
indiscreet  confidences,  and  had  hastened  to  the  ren- 
dezvous— the  stone  bridge  by  the  Red  Farm  below 
Deal  Hill — and  had  warned  his  companions.  They 
had  quietly  returned  to  their  dormitories;  indeed, 
while  the  Head  Master  and  Morris  had  been  talking 
in  the  latter's  study,  Carroll  had  softly  stolen  up  stairs, 
slipped  into  his  room,  and  quietly  got  into  bed. 

Our  other  friends,  following  Kit's  ardent  but  in- 
judicious leadership,  were  making  a  detour  to  the 
north  on  their  way  to  their  cave  with  an  intention  of 
taking  a  peep  at  the  nefarious  doings  at  the  shanty. 

It  was  a  long  walk,  and  a  cold  one.  Tony  and 
Jimmie  had  Uttle  heart  for  it,  but  the  irrepressible 
I^t  led  them  gaily  on.  They  skirted  Beaver  Pond, 
threaded  their  way  along  the  ridges  over  familiar 
paths,  and  at  last  debouched  upon  the  little  clearing 
in  which  the  abandoned  shanty  was  situated.  On 
every  side  stretched  the  thick  woods,  traversable 
only  by  those  who  knew  their  devious  paths.  To  the 
east  of  the  shanty  the  ridge  ended  abruptly,  there  was 
a  sheer  descent,  and  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  on  the 
hillside  one  could  get  a  splendid  view  of  the  distant 
ocean,  the  Neck,  and  Deigr  Island  beyond  the  point, 
with  its  Ught  faithfully  blinking  red  and  white. 

''No  one  about,"  exclaimed  Kit,  peering  in  at  a 
dark  window;  ''what  a  lark!" 

"Now  that  we're  here,"  said  Jimmie.  "I'm  for 
investigating." 

"By  Jove!  the  window's  unfastened!"  cried  Kit, 
already  tugging  at  the  sash.    In  a  moment  he  had  it 


98  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

up,  and  disappeared  over  the  window-sill.  He  struck 
a  match  inside  and  his  companions  could  see  him 
moving  about.  Presently  he  found  a  candle,  lighted 
it,  and  set  it  on  the  table.  "Come  on  in,"  he  called. 
"Here's  a  rummy  old  pack  of  cards."  And  he  kicked 
the  deck  of  cards  across  the  room. 

Deering  and  Lawrence  climbed  in  and  joined  him 
in  an  interested  examination  of  the  room.  The  struc- 
ture, which  contained  only  this  one  room,  it  may  be 
said,  had  been  built  some  years  before  by  a  gentle- 
man of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  literary  tastes,  and 
sought  the  quiet  and  seclusion  of  this  spot  for  their 
development.  Of  late  it  had  been  disused,  however, 
for  a  period  of  six  or  seven  years.  There  was  an  old 
table,  a  few  rickety  chairs,  and  a  strongbox,  such  as 
the  boys  used  in  their  caves;  aside  from  these  no 
furniture  of  any  description.  The  embers  of  a  wood 
fire  glowed  on  a  great  hearth  at  one  side  of  the  room. 
In  a  cupboard  the  boys  found  several  soiled  packs 
of  cards,  a  pile  of  poker  chips,  and  some  empty  ciga- 
rette boxes.  "The  real  dope,  I  suppose,"  Kit  com- 
mented "is  in  the  strong  box,  or  hid  some  place  outside. 
I  reckon  we  can't  bust  into  it.  What  a  silly  lot  of 
asses;  if  the  prefects  don't  get  on  to  this,  I'm  a  loser. 
But  what  a  jolly  old  joint  it  is,  eh?" 

"Rather,"  said  Jimmie.  "There's  a  pile  of  dishes  in 
the  sink  yonder — they've  evidently  had  a  feed  here 
this  afternoon.  There's  live  coals  on  the  hearth. 
Hmmm — smell  the  tobacco!" 

"Makes  my  mouth  water,"  was  Kit's  prompt  reply. 
"Let's  fire  up,  and  have  our  feed  here,  and  leave  a 
note  thankin'  'em  for  their  hospitality.    It  isn't  likely 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  99 

that  anybody  will  turn  up  this  time  o'  night.  Get 
the  bundle,  Tony;  and  you,  Jim,  lend  a  hand  while 
we  start  the  fire." 

The  two  began  industriously  to  lay  a  fresh  fire  on 
the  great  andirons,  while  Tony  made  for  the  window. 
As  he  reached  it  there  rose  before  him  what  seemed 
a  monstrous  head  and  body.  He  gave  a  cry  of  alarm. 
''Great  heavens!  who  is  it?"  he  screamed. 

"Don't  have  a  fit,  Deering;  it's  only  Maclaren." 

Tony  immediately  recovered  his  equilibrium.  "Only 
Maclaren!"  he  repeated,  in  a  voice  of  despair.  "It's 
all  up,  kiddos."  And  he  turned  a  white  face  to  his 
amazed  companions  in  the  shanty. 

"Only  Maclaren!"  wailed  Kit,  as  he  threw  his 
bundle  of  faggots  on  the  hearth.  "You  poor  fool, 
there's  Mr.  Morris  too." 

It  was  a  sorry  procession  that  wound  its  way 
back  to  Standerland  that  cold  January  night.  The 
Doctor  was  waiting  for  them  in  Mr.  Morris's  study, 
grown  a  little  impatient  at  the  long  delay.  The 
clock  had  struck  eleven  before  he  heard  the  footsteps 
on  the  stairs. 

Mr.  Morris  had  rather  deprecated  explanations  on 
the  way  back,  preferring  to  let  the  Head  deal  with  the 
case  himself;  nor  were  the  boys  much  inclined  to  talk. 
Upon  their  arrival  at  Standerland,  Mr.  Morris  gave  a 
succinct  account  of  their  capture,  while  the  Doctor 
listened,  a  cloud  gathering  upon  his  brow. 

"Well,"  he  said  sternly,  as  Morris  finished,  "what 
were  you  doing  in  Lovel's  Woods  at  this  time  of  night? 
Lawrence,  you  may  answer  for  the  three." 

"We  skipped  out  just  for  the  lark,  sir." 


100  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"You  have  been  in  the  habit  of  paying  these  visits 

to  the  Woods?  " 

''Yes,  sir — once  in  a  while,  sir,"  Jimmie  answered, 

in  rather  a  doleful  tone. 

''What  have  you  done  there?" 

"Simply  fooled  about  in  our  cave,  sir." 

"Do  you  call  that  shanty  your  cave?" 

"No,  sir — our  cave  is  on  the  east  side  on  the  Third 

Ridge." 

"Well,  what  were  you  doing  at  the  shanty?" 
"We  were  investigating  it,  sir;  we  had  never  been 

there  before." 
"None  of  you?" 
"None,  sir." 

"Is  that  true  of  you,  Wilson? " 
"I?  "    exclaimed  Kit.    "No,  sir;  that  is,  sir,  I  have 

been  there  once  before,  but  only  on  the  outside  and 

looked  in  at  the  windows." 
"And  you,  Deering?" 
"No,  sir,  I  have  never  been  there  before." 
Dr.   Forester  had  turned  on  Tony  like  a  flash. 

"How  then  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  a  letter 

addressed  to  you  was  found  there  this  afternoon?" 
"A  letter  addressed  to  me  found  there!"  exclaimed 

Tony,  in  surprise.    "I  can't  account  for  it.    I  do  not 

know  how  it  got  there." 

"Do  you  know  of  other  boys  being  there?" 

"I  believe  other  boys  have  been  there;  yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  what  boys  have  been  there?" 

"I  really  can't  say,  sir." 

Tony  was  growing  restless  and  ill  at  ease  under  this 

severe  cross-examination.    It  suddenly  dawned  upon 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  101 

him,  that  the  Doctor  did  not  appear  to  accept  his 
replies  as  he  gave  them.  ...  In  his  quick  passion- 
ate southern  way  he  fired  with  resentment.  His  face 
flushed,  he  stammered  in  giving  his  replies,  and  once 
or  twice  inadvertently  contradicted  himself.  Jimmie 
and  Kit  looked  at  him  in  amazement;  for  a  moment 
the  suspicion  crossed  their  minds  that  Tony  had  per- 
haps after  all  been  going  to  the  shanty  with  Carroll. 
Even  Morris,  who  had  been  serenely  confident  that 
the  boys  would  clear  themselves  of  the  charge  of 
gambling,  showed  a  troubled  countenance  as  the  cross- 
examination  went  on. 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  Doctor,  ''I  would  like 
you  to  suggest  some  explanation  as  to  how  a  letter 
addressed  to  you  was  found  in  that  shanty  this  after- 
noon." 

"I  don't  account  for  it,"  Tony  replied.  "I  know 
nothing  about  it.  I  know  nothing  about  the  shanty; 
I  never  saw  it  until  to-night." 

"That  statement,"  commented  the  Doctor  mer- 
cilessly, "conflicts  with  what  you  implied  a  few 
moments  ago.  You  allowed  me  to  infer  that  you  do 
know  what  boys  go  there." 

"Suppose  I  do,"  exclaimed  Tony  passionately. 
"Suppose  I  do — I  shan't  tell  anything  about  it.  I 
have  never  been  there,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it." 

"Well,  sir,  there  is  still  another  bit  of  evidence 
that  inevitably  suggests  to  me  the  suspicion  that  you 
must  know  more  than  you  admit.  The  strong-box 
in  that  shanty  was  rifled  this  afternoon  by  the  Head 
Prefect  under  my  direction.    In  it  were  found  several 


102  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

packs  of  playing  cards,  a  quantity  of  poker  chips, 
and  a  memorandum-book." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  that  memorandum- 
book?" 

"I  do  not." 

The  Doctor  drew  it  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke, 
and  opened  it.  "I  find  here  various  entries,  evidently 
sums  of  money  owing  to  certain  persons.  I  find  here 
the  entry  'A.  D.  to  R.  C. — $5.'  Between  these  pages 
is  a  check  on  the  First  National  Bank  of  New  Orleans 
drawn  by  you  in  your  own  favor  and  endorsed  on  the 
back.    Do  you  recollect  such  a  check?" 

Tony  racked  his  memory,  and  recalled  at  last  that  a 
week  or  so  before  he  had  given  Reggie  such  a  check 
in  payment  of  a  small  loan.  "I  made  out  such  a 
check;  yes,  sir." 

"To  whom  did  you  pay  it?" 

"I  decline  to  tell  you,  sir." 

"  What  did  you  pay  it  for?  " 

"In  payment  of  the  sum  of  five  dollars  which  I  had 
borrowed." 

"The  boy  to  whom  you  paid  this  will  corroborate 
your  statement?  " 

"Possibly,  sir — I  don't  know.  I  certainly  shan't 
ask  him  to.     I  am  accustomed  to  tell  the  truth." 

"You  decline  then  to  explain  to  me  how  this  check 
came  to  be  found  in  this  memorandum-book  in  the 
strong-box  of  that  shanty?" 

"I  know  nothing  about  it  to  explain.  I  paid  the 
check  to  a  friend.  I  don't  know  how  it  came  to  be  in 
the  shanty," 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  103 

"Have  you  ever  played  poker  in  this  school?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  not." 

"Could  this  check  have  had  anything  to  do  with  a 
poker  game?" 

"I  don't  know — not  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'so  far  as  I  am  concerned '? " 

"I  mean  that  I  have  never  played  cards  for  money, 
or  given  that  check  in  payment  for  a  gambling  debt. 
As  to  whether  other  boys  have  gambled  in  the  shanty 
or  elsewhere,  I  do  not  know.  I  have  nothing  to 
say." 

"You  have  broken  bounds  repeatedly  this  term?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  will  do  for  to-night.  You  three  boys  may  go 
to  bed  now.  Report  to  me  to-morrow  morning  at  the 
Rectory  after  Chapel.  You  will  not  attend  recitations 
or  take  any  part  in  the  school  activities  until  this 
matter  is  settled." 

The  three  culprits  silently  took  up  their  caps  and 
went  off  to  their  rooms;  Jimmie  and  Kit,  distressed 
and  alarmed  for  themselves,  but  even  more  for  Tony; 
Deering  was  sullen  and  angry. 

Doctor  Forester  sank  back  for  a  moment  in  his 
chair  and  looked  helplessly  at  his  master  and  his 
prefects.  "I  don't  think  for  a  moment  that  that 
boy  is  not  telling  the  truth,  Morris.  But  there  is 
the  letter,  the  check,  and  the  memorandum-book. 
What  do  you  make  of  it?  " 

"I  would  stake  my  life  on  his  honor,"  exclaimed 
Morris  generously.  "For  a  moment  I  doubted  him 
when  he  was  confronted  with  your  evidence ;  but  there 
is  an  explanation  for  it,  I  am  sure.    Perhaps  we  will 


104  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

find  it  out;  perhaps  not.  But  whether  we  do  or  not, 
I  would  take  Deering's  word." 

"Doubtless  you  are  right.  His  grandfather  was  the 
same  sort  of  hot-headed  chivalrous  youth,  always 
in  trouble,  always  refusing  to  clear  himself  if  there 
were  a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  involving  some  one  else. 
Nevertheless,  this  business  is  to  be  probed  to  the 
bottom,  and  I  shall  be  inclined  to  expel  the  offenders 
without  mercy.  Come,  boys,  get  to  bed  now;  come 
to  see  me  in  the  morning.  You  too,  Morris.  Good- 
night. I  don't  know  when  a  case  of  discipline  has 
given  me  so  much  distress." 

When  they  were  gone,  Morris  crossed  over  to 
Deering's  room,  and  tapped  on  the  door.  Receiving 
no  reply,  he  opened  it  and  walked  in.  As  he  found 
no  one  in  the  study,  he  went  into  the  bedroom,  and 
there  he  discovered  Tony  lying  on  the  bed,  shaken  by  a 
storm  of  sobs.  Carroll  was  sitting  by  his  side,  with 
his  arms  around  him,  trying  to  get  some  explanation 
of  his  distress. 

Reggie  looked  up  at  the  master.  "What  is  the 
trouble,  Mr.  Morris?    I  can't  get  a  word  from  Tony." 

Morris  explained  in  a  few  sentences  what  had 
happened. 

"But,  sir — he  gave  his  word?" 

"I  know,  I  know,"  exclaimed  the  master.  "I  be- 
Ueve  him  absolutely,  but  I  am  afraid  there  is  a  strong 
evidence  against  him  that  he  will  have  to  explain  to 
the  Head." 

"But  the  Doctor  must  know  that  he  is  telling  the 
truth.    I  never  knew  him  to  misjudge  a  boy." 

"Even  so — but  whether  he  believes  him  or  not, 


A  MIDNIGHT  LARK  105 

the  Head  is  forced  to  probe  the  matter.  He  cannot 
accept  Tony's  refusal  to  speak,  and  you  must  admit, 
Reggie,  the  letter,  the  check  and  the  memorandum 
are  pretty  strong  evidence." 

Carroll  paled,  but  he  met  the  master's  gaze  firmly. 
''I  can  explain  that,  sir.  The  memorandum  was  made 
out  to  a  boy  who  has  the  same  initials  as  Tony.  I 
left  the  check  which  Tony  had  paid  me  in  the 
memorandum-book  by  mistake." 

''You— Reginald!" 

*'Yes,  yes — I  have  been  playing  poker  there  all 
this  term,  or  at  least  for  a  good  part  of  it.  Is  it  too 
late  to  go  and  tell  the  Doctor?" 

"No,  I  think  not;  I  believe  he  would  like  to  know 
to-night." 

Without  a  word  Carroll  rose  up  and  left  them. 

Morris  sat  down  then  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  by 
Deering's  side,  and  tried  to  calm  him,  making  him 
understand  at  last  what  Reggie  had  done.  Then  he 
persuaded  him  to  undress;  and  waited  until  he  had 
got  into  bed;  then,  with  a  quiet  good-night,  he  turned 
out  the  lights  and  left  him  alone. 

The  Doctor's  study  contained  a  door  which  gave 
directly  upon  the  campus,  so  that  the  boys  had  easy 
access  to  him  without  the  formality  of  going  to  the 
front  door  of  the  Rectory  and  sending  their  names 
in  by  a  servant.  When  the  Doctor  was  busy  and  did 
not  wish  to  be  disturbed,  he  placed  a  little  sign  in 
the  window  to  that  effect.  There  was  no  such  sign 
as  Reggie  stood  in  the  snow  outside,  at  the  foot  of 
the  few  steps  that  led  to  the  study  door.  The  window- 
shades  were  up  and  Carroll  could  see  the  Doctor 


106  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

standing  before  the  fire — a  characteristic  attitude — 
his  brows  knit  in  perplexity.  The  boy's  heart  went  to 
his  throat,  for  Uke  every  Deal  boy  the  Doctor's  good 
opinion  was  what  secretly  he  coveted  intensely.  But 
there  was  only  a  moment's  hesitation  before  he  went 
up  boldly  and  tapped  at  the  door. 

The  Head  Master  was  surprised  to  see  him  at  that 
hour  of  the  night,  and  waited  a  Httle  gravely  for  his 
explanation. 

Carroll  made  his  confession  in  a  few  words,  stating 
the  case  against  himself  baldly  and  without  a  word  of 
palliation.  "I  have  to  say,  sir,"  he  concluded,  "that 
I  have  only  come  to  you  to  save  Deering,  who  has  had 
absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair,  and  who  told 
you  the  entire  truth.  I  could  not  sleep,  sir,  if  I  thought 
you  doubted  his  honor.    Why,  sir " 

"Yes,  Reginald,  I  agree  with  all  that  you  can  say 
about  Deering.  I  have  persistently  believed  in  the 
boy  despite  the  seemingly  strong  evidence  against  him. 
I  am  glad  you  have  set  me  right  there.  As  for  yourself, 
you  know  that  you  have  behaved  badly,  and  I  feel 
your  conduct  deeply.  But  I  think  you  are  atoning  for 
it  now  in  the  sacrifice  you  are  making  for  your  friend. 
I  do  not  want  to  know  the  names  of  your  companions 
in  this  gambling  episode,  but  I  want  to  feel  that  I 
may  count  on  you  from  this  moment  to  make  an  effort 
to  have  it  stopped.  .  .  .  Make  no  promises,  but  give 
me  reason  to  keep  my  trust  in  you  from  now  on." 

He  extended  his  hand.  ' '  Good-night  now ;  tell  Deer- 
ing to  come  to  me  after  Chapel  to-morow  morning." 

"Good-night,  sir,"  said  Carroll  with  a  thick  voice, 
as  he  grasped  the  Doctor's  hand. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN  ENDING 

"  Well,  Sandy,"  said  the  Doctor  to  his  head  prefect 
the  next  morning,  as  he  waved  the  embarrassed  Mac- 
laren  to  a  comfortable  chair,  himself  standing  with 
his  back  to  the  fire,  *'I  am  afraid  I  have  been  near 
making  a  very  bad  mistake."  And  he  related  in  a 
few  words,  without  involving  Carroll,  the  revelation 
that  had  been  made  to  him  the  night  before. 

"I  see,  sir,"  said  Sandy.  ''I  suppose  of  course, 
sir,  that  you  can't  give  me  the  name  of  your  informant. 
I  should  like  to  do  a  Uttle  investigating  on  my  own 
responsibility." 

"No,  I  can't,"  responded  the  Head  decisively. 
"And  for  some  reasons  I  am  sorry;  but  it  was  such 
S.  manly  and  unselfish  course  for  the  boy  to  take, 
that  I  freely  forgave  him  and  promised  him  immunity. 
So  far  as  he  is  concerned,  I  have  no  doubt  that  is  the 
best  course.  But  there  are  others — the  ringleaders, 
I  suspect.  I  want  the  investigation  made,  of  course, 
if  you  can  do  it  without  acting  on  mere  suspicion. 
If  you  can  get  me  evidence  in  a  straightforward  way, 
I  shall  act  on  it.  Just  now,  I  wish  you  would  find 
Deering  and  ask  him  to  come  in  here  to  see  me." 

"Yes,  sir." 

107 


108  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Maclaren  took  his  leave  then,  and  the  Head  Master 
turned  to  his  morning  mail. 

Within  fifteen  minutes  Tony  stood  before  him. 
He  had  not  slept  well  and  the  strain  through  which 
he  had  been  passing  had  told  on  his  appearance — his 
freshness  was  dulled,  there  were  circles  under  his 
eyes,  his  usually  eager  manner  was  unwontedly  quiet 
and  subdued. 

The  Head  put  the  matter  very  briefly  and  frankly. 
''The  evidence  seemed  very  strong  against  you,  my 
boy"  he  concluded;  ''though  I  will  say  in  justice  to 
you  that  even  when  things  looked  darkest  I  never 
ceased  to  believe  in  you.  I  felt  the  difficulty,  but  I 
saw  no  way  out  but  to  push  things  on." 

"I  understand,  sir,"  Tony  replied.  The  weight 
was  off  his  heart  now,  but  he  was  still  a  little  con- 
strained and  self-conscious.  He  was  thinking  how 
much  he  would  like  to  say  many  things  to  Reggie 
and  wondering  if  he  could  say  them  when  the  oppor- 
tunity came. 

"I  must  say,  taking  it  all  in  all,"  resumed  the 
Doctor,  "that  heredity  seems  to  demonstrate  itself 
afresh  in  your  case  with  unusual  force.  You  remind 
me  uncommonly  of  your  grandfather.  There  was  an 
affair  at  Kingsbridge  in  his  sophomore  year — a  piece 
of  brutal  hazing.  It  was  rather  bad,  you  know,  in 
our  day.  But  Basil  had  had  absolutely  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  He  was  captured  by  the  proctors  under 
suspicious  though  in  reality  perfectly  innocent  cir- 
cumstances, and  to  save  a  guilty  friend,  he  maintained 
a  stubborn  silence  to  the  verge  of  expulsion.  The 
friend's  confession  at  last  saved  him  also." 


AN  ENDING  109 

Tony  smiled.  "That's  like  my  grandfather,  cer- 
tainly." 

''I  admire  the  trait,  you  know,"  continued  Doctor 
Forester, "  but  I  think  there  are  limits  to  its  indulgence. 
There  is  a  point,  as  a  boy  seldom  can  realize,  at  which 
the  authorities  must  probe  very  much  as  the  law 
probes,  with  a  fine  disregard  for  personal  feelings. 
Things  that  deeply  concern  the  moral  welfare  of  the 
boys  here  I  must  sometimes  be  inquisitorial  about 
in  a  way  that  I  little  like.  I  think  it  well  to  suffer  for 
a  friend,  but  not  to  the  extent  of  permitting  untruth 
to  estabUsh  itself  in  the  minds  of  those  who  after  all 
are  responsible  for  your  welfare." 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  I  don't  know  where  to  draw  the 
Une." 

"No,  my  boy,  I  am  afraid  you  do  not." 

"I  think  it  was  pretty  fine  of  Carroll  to  come  to  you, 
sir,"  ventured  Tony  upon  this. 

"Yes,  yes,  so  do  I.  But  I  think  also  that  it  would 
have  been  uncommonly  mean  if  he  had  not.  I  have 
forgiven  Reginald,  partly  because  of  his  confession, 
partly  too  because  I  feel  quite  confident  that  he  is 
not  the  ringleader,  that  he  too  has  been  to  some 
extent  a  victim.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  he  altogether 
deserves  the  immunity  I  have  promised  him — the 
complete  immunity  was  a  concession  to  you." 

"To  me,  sir?" 

"Yes " 

"I  don't  see  how,  sir?" 

"No?  Well,  perhaps  some  time  you  will.  You 
may  go  now.  I  am  sorry  for  what  has  occurred; 
sorry  to  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  accuse  you,  to  probe 


110  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

your  replies.  You  will  consider  yourself,  however, 
gated  until  further  notice,  and  so  will  your  friends, 
Wilson  and  Lawrence.  I  do  not  propose  to  overlook 
your  breaking  bounds  at  midnight.  If  that  happens 
again,  look  out  for  more  serious  trouble." 

"Thank you,  sir." 

They  shook  hands  then,  and  Tony  left. 

How,  how,  mused  the  Head,  as  he  looked  after 
the  boy,  was  one  to  put  pressure  upon  the  keenness 
of  that  sense  of  honor;  and  should  one,  if  one  could? 
Sometimes  even  a  head  master  reaUzes  that  there 
are  limits  to  his  wisdom.  One  of  the  indications 
that  the  limits  of  Doctor  Forester's  wisdom  were 
less  restricted  than  is  often  the  case  was  the  sin- 
cerity with  which  he  frequently  questioned  his  own 
actions. 

After  dinner  Tony  found  his  cronies  waiting  in  the 
quadrangle  back  of  the  Old  School  for  a  report  on  his 
interview  with  the  Head.  He  informed  them  briefly  of 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  cleared  and  discharged  on  the 
several  items  of  the  accusations,  but  also  of  the  penalty 
of  gating  that  had  been  imposed  upon  the  trio. 

''Well,  that's  all  very  nice  and  jolly,"  said  Kit, 
as  the  three  sat  and  kicked  their  heels  against  a  bench 
outside  their  form  common-room,  "  and  really  not 
much  of  a  soak  for  the  provocation  we  undoubtedly 
gave  'em.  I  only  hoped  in  the  old  gentleman's  excite- 
ment about  the  shanty  that  he'd  forget  our  minor 
sins.  Not  he!  But,  on  the  other  hand,  considering 
that  they  spoiled  the  best  part  of  the  lark  and  insulted 
you  uncommonly  by  supposing  all  manner  of  rotten 
immoral  things,  I'm  equally  torn  as  to  whether  it's 


AN  ENDING  111 

not  an  awful  roast  and  with  wondering  how  we  get 
ofif  at  all,  at  all." 

"Say,  kiddo,  you  are  all  tangled  up,"  said  Tony, 
feeling  Kit's  head  for  indications  of  unsuspected 
abnormalities. 

"I  am,  I  confess  it,"  that  youth  blandly  responded. 
''Kindly  inform  Jim  and  me,  who've  been  unfeel- 
ingly omitted  from  these  interesting  interviews,  who 
was  the  victim  that  went  so  willingly  to  the  sac- 
rifice?" 

"Well,"  interrupted  Jimmie,  "not  Arty  Chapin — " 

"No,  Chapin's  a  bounder." 

"Not  Hen  Marsh." 

"No,  Hen's  a  shadow  of  Arty's,  and  a  poor  measly 
sort  of  shadow  at  that." 

"Nor  Buster  Thorndyke." 

"Rather  not,"  assented  Kit;  "Buster's  just  plain 
garden  variety  of  no  good." 

"Well,  there  are  other  candidates,  of  course,  for 
the  honor;  but  though  nameless  I  guess  we  can  count 
on  them  failing  to  qualify — all  of  which  rather  nar- 
rows the  possibihties  to  Reginald  Carter  Westover 
Carroll." 

"Now  look  here!"  exclaimed  Tony.  "It's  to 
Reggie's  credit  or  I  wouldn't  admit  it.  Reggie's 
a  peach.  I  can't  stand  for  a  word  against  him.  He's 
made  everything  all  right." 

"Oh,  Reggie's  all  right,"  admitted  IGt  soothingly. 
"Reggie  is  certainly  all  right.  Haven't  I  always  said 
so?  Haven't  I  deplored  from  the  very  beginning  that 
he  was  in  with  such  a  crowd  of  bounders.  This  only 
proves  that  he's  too  good  for  them.     I  only  hope," 


112  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

he  added,  with  mock  gravity,  ''that  this  will  have 
taught  him  a  lesson  and  that  in  the  future  he  will 
model  himself  upon  us." 

Upon  this  Tony  turned  and  with  a  powerful  swing 
of  his  left  arm  swept  Kit  out  off  the  bench  onto  the 
snow.  But  Wilson,  in  his  sudden  descent,  reached  out 
instinctively,  grabbed  Tony  by  an  arm  and  a  leg, 
and  pulled  him  down  on  top  of  him.  Jimmie  joyously 
fell  on  the  heap.  For  several  blissful  moments  there 
was  wonderful  roughhouse.  Tony  emerged  at  last, 
sent  Jimmie  sprawling,  and  established  himself  for  a 
brief  triumphant  moment  on  Kit's  stomach. 

''Swear  you'll  never  tell  any  of  it,  or  I'll  stuff  your 
mouth  full  of  dirty  snow.    Swear!" 

"I  swear,"  yelled  Kit.  "Let  me  up,  you  white 
trash!    Jim,  to  the  rescue!" 

But  Tony  was  up  and  at  bay,  and  by  whirlwind 
sparring  was  keeping  Jimmie  at  his  distance.  Kit 
was  ludicrously  slow,  and  had  a  bad  thump  on  his 
knee,  which  he  rubbed  ruefully  as  he  arose  with 
exaggerated  dignity. 

"Cut  it,"  he  bellowed.  ''Come  on,  do  let's  crawl 
back  in  the  sun  and  be  nice  and  quiet  and  comfy 
again." 

The  other  two  quickly  desisted  and  helped  the 
wounded  warrior  to  his  seat.  "I'm  sorry,  kid,"  began 
Tony.  "Didn't  mean  to  hurt  you.  Does  it  hurt  so 
much,  old  man?"  he  added,  teasingly. 

Kit  could  not  resist,  but  lumbered  forward,  despite 
the  thumped  knee,  and  fell  afresh  on  the  light-footed 
Deering. 

"Keep  off,  Jim!"  yelled  Tony,  and  again  they  went 


AN  ENDING  113 

crashing  to  the  ground.  .  ''He  has  got  to  eat  that  nice 
clean  white  snow." 

"No — !  I  swear,"  protested  Kit.  But  they  were 
in  for  it,  and  with  Jimmie  standing  by,  after  a  few 
moments  of  furious  wresthng,  both  fed  the  other 
handfuls  of  snow,  until  exhausted  with  laughter  and 
the  effort,  they  lay  supine  and  called  on  Lawrence 
piteously  to  help  them  up. 

"I'm  off,"  said  Jimmie,  "call-over  bell  is  ringing, 
and  the  Gumshoe's  on  deck." 

"Oh,  hang,  oh  hang  the  Gumshoe,"  pleaded 
Kit. 

They  picked  themselves  up,  cheeks  glowing,  eyes 
glistening,  clothes  and  hair  tossed. 

"Such  is  life,"  said  Wilson,  ostentatiously  rubbing 
his  knee. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Roylston  emerged  from  the 
door  of  the  Old  School  and  was  passing  them  on  his 
way  to  the  Gymnasium  to  hold  call-over.  He  glanced 
at  their  disheveled  clothes  and  paused. 

"Will  you  take  our  names,  sir?"  asked  Lawrence. 

"Hm — yes,"  replied  the  master  at  length.  "And 
may  I  ask,  do  you  propose  to  wallow  for  the  rest  of 
the  afternoon  in  the  dirt  and  snow?" 

"Not  much  else  to  do,  sir,"  answered  Kit  ruefully, 
"we're  gated." 

"Ah!"  murmured  Mr.  Roylston,  not  making  the 
pretense  of  concealing  his  satisfaction,  "to  whom  is 
the  credit  of  having  awarded  you  with  your  just 
deserts?  I  may  ask?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  responded  Kit  blithely,  "the 
Head." 


114  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Ah,  indeed.  Well,  I  will  note  your  names." 
And  with  that  he  passed  quickly  on. 

"Ain't  he  the  tender-hearted  elder  brother?"  said 
Kit,  with  a  not  altogether  pleasant  glance  in  the 
direction  of  the  master's  retreating  figure.  "Well, 
I  vote  we  play  fox  and  geese  and  keep  the  amiable 
Gumshoe  chasin'  us  through  the  houses.  'Twill  be 
our  only  means  of  getting  exercise." 

And  fox  and  geese  it  was,  and  Mr.  Roylston  and 
they  had  plenty  of  exercise,  and  that  night  Deering 
and  Lawrence  and  Wilson  had  a  good  long  rest  as 
they  stood  outside  of  Mr.  Roylston's  study-door  in 
Howard  House  until  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

The  gating,  however,  did  not  last  many  weeks,  and 
before  long  our  friends  were  back  at  their  old  haunts 
again. 

Sandy  Maclaren  meanwhile  was  pursuing  his  in- 
vestigation with  both  ardor  and  discretion.  He  felt 
certain  of  his  victims,  if  he  only  had  patience  to  watch 
their  doings  carefully.  Chapin  and  Marsh  were  in 
his  house,  so  that  he  could  note  their  absences  up 
to  lights  without  deliberately  spying.  After  lights 
Sandy  was  at  a  loss,  for  he  did  not  believe  in  going 
into  a  boy's  bedroom  to  see  if  he  were  there.  Nor 
on  the  other  hand  was  it  possible  often  to  visit 
the  shanty.  However  he  gained  an  unexpected  ally 
in  his  house  master,  Mr.  Roylston.  The  doings  at 
the  shanty  in  Lovel's  Woods  had  come  to  that  gentle- 
man's ears;  he  also  had  his  suspicions;  and  he  did  not 
share  Sandy's  scruples  about  quietly  making  sure  half- 
an-hour  after  lights  that  none  of  his  boys  were  out  of 
their  rooms. 


AN  ENDING  115 

He  came  one  evening  toward  the  end  of  the  term 
to  Maclaren's  study  about  half-past  ten.  Sandy  was 
almost  ready  for  bed.  "Chapin  and  Marsh  are  not 
in  their  rooms,  Maclaren,"  he  said. 

"What,  sir?"  exclaimed  Sandy,  starting  to  his  feet, 
"how  do  you  know,  sir?" 

"That  is  of  no  consequence.  Chapin  and  Marsh 
are  out  of  their  rooms." 

"Do  you  know  where  they  are,  sir?" 

"I  have  some  reason  to  suspect  that  they  are  play- 
ing poker  in  that  wretched  shanty  in  the  Woods." 

"Oh,  but  we  raided  that,  you  know;  took  all  their 
stuff, — if  it  was  they," 

"Yes,  but  a  clever  criminal  goes  directly  back 
to  commit  his  crimes  in  the  same  place.  After  a  little 
time  he  is  nowhere  so  safe.  Most  fools  think  lightning 
never  strikes  in  the  same  place  twice.  I  have  sus- 
pected them  for  some  time,  but  I  have  not  before 
been  sure  that  they  were  missing.  I  am  sorry  to  ask 
you  to  make  a  journey  over  to  the  Woods  at  this 
time  of  night,  but  I  cannot  well  leave  the  House. 
You  will  probably  find  them,  I  think;  in  which  case 
you  will  direct  them  to  report  to  me  at  once.  I  will 
wait  up  until  your  return." 

Poor  Sandy  began  to  pull  on  his  clothes.  He  did 
not  like  the  job,  not  merely  because  it  was  cold  and 
dark,  but  because  he  would  have  preferred  to  have 
received  the  information  from  another  master.  He 
was  not  adverse  to  catching  Chapin  and  Marsh,  if  he 
was  to  catch  them,  but  he  felt  a  little  sorry  for  him- 
self as  well  as  them  that  it  all  had  to  come  on  such  a 
night.     He  routed  out  Larry  Cummings  to  go  with 


116  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

them,  and  they  started  on  the  dismal  journey.  After 
all,  duty  was  duty,  they  reflected;  and  if  that  gang 
could  be  broken  up  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the 
school. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Sandy,  Larry  and  their 
victims — Chapin,  Thorndyke  and  Marsh — returned 
to  Mr.  Roylston's  study.  The  master  received  them 
with  a  quiet  satisfaction.  It  was  a  good,  and  thought 
Sandy  a  little  unkindly,  an  easy  night's  work  for  him. 

"You  will  all  retire  at  once,"  he  said  in  grave 
judicial  tones,  "  and  in  the  morning  you  will  accom- 
pany me  to  the  Rectory." 

It  was  a  clear  case  for  the  Head  Master  on  the 
morrow,  though  he  singularly  failed  to  congratulate 
Mr.  Roylston  on  the  success  of  his  detective  work. 
He  suspended  judgment  until  he  could  talk  with 
Mr.  Morris  about  Reggie  Carroll's  connection  with 
the  affair. 

Morris,  when  the  Head  had  sent  for  him,  was  con- 
vinced that  Carroll  deserved  the  leniency;  that  there 
were  chances  for  him  in  the  school  of  making  good  that 
did  not  exist  for  Chapin,  that  were  doubtful  for  Thorn- 
dyke  and  Marsh.  Carroll  certainly  had  improved, 
markedly  improved,  since  his  confession.  He  had 
broken,  Morris  felt,  with  his  old  crowd. 

''Besides,"  he  added,  "as  for  Chapin  there  is  an  old 
score  against  him  that  should  perhaps  weigh  with 
you  in  your  decision.  Doctor  Forester." 

"Yes?— what  is  that?" 

Morris  told  the  story  of  the  Boxford  game  of  the 
year  before. 

"Ah,  I  see,"  said  Doctor  Forester,  and  he  did  see 


AN  ENDING  117 

with  an  admirable  lucidity.  '^And  Deering  held  his 
tongue  about  that  too?  " 

"About  that  too,"  answered  Morris. 

"Unusual  boy!" 

"A  very  fine  boy,  sir." 

"Yes,  a  fine  boy.  Well,  I  think  that  settles  it. 
After  Chapin  is  gone  I  shall  tell  the  prefects  the  whole 
story,  and  I  think  perhaps  it  will  be  well  that  the  school 
should  know  it  too,  at  least  through  them.  We  can 
trust  them  to  do  justice  to  the  football  episode, 
anyway." 

"I  agree  with  you,  sir, — now;  but  for  a  long  time 
I  wanted  to  let  things  take  their  course.  It  has  been 
good  for  Deering.  It  has  deepened  his  easy-going 
pleasant  nature;  or  rather  it  has  served  to  bring  out 
the  deep  things  that  are  in  his  nature." 

"Yes,  yes — that  was  right,  I  dare  say.  But  that 
you  have  told  me  now  makes  my  course  perfectly 
clear.    I  am  glad  you  have  done  so." 

Chapin  was  shortly  summoned  to  the  Rectory. 
He  had  a  brief  and  uncomfortable  interview  with 
Doctor  Forester,  and  an  hour  later  he  boarded  a  train 
bound  for  Coventry,  and  was  heard  of  at  Deal  School 
no  more.  Marsh  and  Thorndyke  and  one  or  two 
others  were  suspended  for  the  rest  of  the  term,  and 
after  this  house-cleaning  the  school  settled  down  to 
its  normal  life. 

One  afternoon  not  long  after  these  events  Doctor 
Forester  paused  on  the  terrace  of  the  Old  School  and 
looked  over  the  playing-fields.  The  snows  had  melted, 
the  frost  was  out  of  the  ground,  it  was  one  of  the 
first  warm  days  of  the  Spring  shortly  before  the 


118  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Easter  vacation,  and  the  boys  were  plajdng  ball  for 
the  first  time,  rushing  the  season  as  they  commonly  do. 
Doctor  Forester  liked  baseball,  for  it  gave  him  less 
anxiety  than  some  other  games. 

Morris  had  joined  him  as  he  stood  on  the  terrace 
in  the  pleasant  sunlight.  Morris  was  an  Old  Boy,  and 
the  Head  had  a  special  feeling  for  him  that  for  the 
most  part  he  carefully  concealed.  He  welcomed  him 
now  with  a  sympathetic  nod. 

Just  below  them  a  rod  or  so  away  Jimmie  Lawrence 
and  Tony  Deering  were  passing  ball. 

"Good  to  see  the  baseball  starting,  eh?  Who  are 
those  two  boys  just  below  us?  Deering  and  Lawrence? 
I  am  getting  blind,  I  fancy.  I  wish  Deering  were 
as  good  a  baseball  player  as  he  is  a  good  football 
player.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  you  like  the  other  game. 
Look,  how  quick  he  is!  I  like  that.  By  the  by,  I  have 
thought  often  of  what  you  told  me  of  his  keeping  his 
mouth  shut  about  Chapin's  trick  in  the  Boxford 
game.  It  was  like  a  Deering.  His  grandfather  was 
just  such  a  chivalrous  fool — such  a  good  Christian, 
Morris!  I  like  a  boy  like  that  here.  He  will  do  some- 
thing.    I  wonder  what?" 

"Who  knows,  sir?  We  can  count  on  him,  I  feel 
sure  of  that." 

"And  that  is  much.  One  muses  of  these  boys  now 
and  then — what  the  future  has  for  them.  Yes — you 
do,  I  know.  I  envy  you  sometimes  knowing  them  as 
you  can  and  do.  How  much  one  wants  to  do  for  them, 
eh?  That  Deering,  now — we  must  watch  him.  He 
will  be  worth  while." 

"Yes,  I  think  so.     We  shall  see,  sir,  just  how." 


AN  ENDING  119 

"Yes,  we  shall  see."  And  still  musing,  the  Doctor 
turned  away. 

Morris  stayed  on  for  a  long  time  watching  the  boys 
on  the  playing-fields. 

The  Head  Master  had  turned  as  he  was  about  to 
enter  the  Old  School  and  glanced  again  at  his  younger 
colleague,  and  a  smile  of  quiet  affection  and  satisfac- 
tion stole  over  his  keen  kindly  face. 


CHAPTER  X 

FINCH 

One  stormy  night  in  the  early  autumn,  two  years 
after  the  events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter,  a  group 
of  masters  were  sitting  in  their  common-room  at 
Deal  School.  Supper  was  just  concluded;  a  cheerful 
fire  burned  on  the  hearth,  and  the  crackling  of  the 
flames  was  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  roar  of  the  wind 
and  the  dashing  of  the  rain  without.  Two  of  the 
masters  were  playing  chess  under  the  light  of  a  lamp, 
the  others  were  sitting  before  the  fire,  smoking  and 
talking. 

''Well,"  remarked  Beverly,  one  of  the  younger  men, 
noted  among  his  colleagues  for  his  readiness  to  ex- 
press an  opinion  upon  any  subject  in  the  universe, 
''what  do  you  think  of  the  Head's  latest  departure?'* 

Mr.  Roylston  pursed  his  thin  close-shaven  lips 
as  though  he  were  about  to  reply,  but  before  doing 
so  he  carefully  pressed  the  tobacco  into  his  pipe,  and 
struck  a  match  and  applied  it.  "I  don't  know," 
he  muttered,  between  the  puffs,  in  rather  a  high  jerky 
voice,  "that  it  makes  very  much  difference  what  we 
think.  But  I  am  inclined  to  characterize  it  as  an 
arrival  rather  than  a  departure." 

"It  is  certainly  very  much  with  us,"  commented 
Gray,  with  an  absent-minded  glance  into  the  fire. 

120 


FINCH  121 

"Well,  I  predict  its  speedy  extinction,"  resumed 
Beverly.  "It  is  difficult  for  me  to  conceive  how  the 
Doctor  can  suppose  that  Finch  will  ever  get  on 
here.  Upon  my  word,  did  you  ever  see  such  an 
object?" 

''Upon  my  word,  I  did  not,"  answered  Gray.  "But 
here  it  certainly  is,  and  in  a  sense  it  is  bound  to  get 
on.  I  am  entrusted  with  its  table  manners,  if  one  may 
speak  of  what  does  not  exist." 

"I  beheve  that  Morris  is  to  have  it  in  his  house," 
said  Roylston,  looking  over  at  the  chess  players. 

"It?  who?  Oh,  you  are  talking  about  Finch,  eh? 
Queer  Httle  duffer,  isn't  he?" 

"Queer?"  murmured  Beverly  in  a  tone  that  spoke 
volumes  of  intense  pity  for  the  limits  of  Morris's 
vocabulary.  "Perhaps  you  can  really  tell  us  some- 
thing about  it,  Mr.  Morris?" 

"Nothing  much,  I'm  afraid,"  Morris  repUed.  "The 
Doctor  has  some  special  interest, — he's  a  trust,  I 
understand,  from  a  very  old  friend.  It  is  very  much 
up  to  us,  I  fancy,  to  help  make  things  easy  for  the 
poor  kid.  I  shall  speak  to  some  of  the  boys  in  my 
house  about  him,  and  ask  them  to  go  out  of  their  way 
to  be  a  bit  decent." 

"Speedy  execution  were  the  more  merciful,  I  should 
say,"  commented  Mr.  Roylston,  taking  a  comfortable 
pull  at  his  pipe. 

"Nonsense!  he'll  make  good,"  said  Morris,  a  shade 
of  irritation  crossing  his  face,  "that  is,  if  we  give  him 
half  a  chance." 

"I  don't  precisely  see  why  we  should  be  supposed 
to  give  him  less  or  more  chance  than  we  give  to  every 


122  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

boy,"  said  Beverly,  a  little  pompously.  "I  am  sure 
we  all " 

"TTe  can't  perhaps,"  Roylston  rejoined,  "but 
doubtless  Mr.  Morris,  who  has  the  advantage  of 
certain  confidential  relations  with  the  boys  of  his 
house  which  we  do  not  enjoy,  probably  can." 

"Oh,  come,  Roylston,"  exclaimed  Morris,  making 
a  bad  move  in  his  game  with  Stenton.  "Of  course, 
I  shall  use  my  influence  with  the  boys  in  my  house 
to  make  things  easy  for  poor  Finch.  Why  should 
I  not?" 

"Echo  answers  'why,'"  replied  Mr.  Roylston, 
somewhat  annoyed;  and  then  he  added  with  an  air 
of  indulgence,  "but  be  assured,  my  dear  fellow,  I 
have  no  intention  of  criticising  your  extraordinary 
theories  afresh." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Morris  and  gave  his  attention 
to  his  game.    "Your  move,  Stenton,  I  think." 

Mr.  Roylston  sent  a  characteristic  glance  of  patient 
suffering  in  the  direction  of  his  colleague,  and  then  held 
up  his  hands  for  the  benefit  of  the  company  as  though 
to  say,  "You  see  how  useless  it  is  to  discuss  these  things 
with  our  friend  over  there."  He  then  bade  them  all  a 
tart  good-night,  and  went  off  to  keep  his  duty  in  the 
schoolroom. 

His  way  led  across  the  Gymnasium.  There,  in 
the  center  of  a  crowd  of  boys  engaged  in  making  his 
life  miserable,  stood  the  new  boy.  Finch,  who  had 
just  been  the  subject  of  conversation  in  the  masters' 
common-room.  He  was  a  sorry  specimen  of  a  boy, 
to  be  sure ;  the  sorriest  probably  that  through  mistaken 
kindness  had  ever  found  his  way  to  a  great  school 


FINCH  123 

of  wholesome,  healthy  youngsters.  He  was  thin,  he 
was  pallid,  he  was  ugly.  Pie  had  the  face  of  a  little 
old  man,  weak  light  eyes,  a  high  dome-like  forehead, 
over  which  straggled  little  wisps  of  thin  yellow  hair. 
His  ill-formed  mouth  was  parted  now  in  a  snarl  half 
of  rage,  half  of  terror,  as  he  glanced  from  one  jibing 
boy  to  another,  like  a  hunted  rat.  His  clothes  were 
too  small  for  him,  and  his  thin  little  legs,  which  long 
since  should  have  been  concealed  by  long  trousers, 
were  incased  in  bright  red  knitted  stockings.  These 
had  acted  upon  the  imagination  of  his  schoolmates 
like  the  proverbial  red  rag  upon  a  bull,  and  were  the 
subject  of  the  stream  of  jibes  and  jokes  that  were 
being  heaped  upon  him.  It  was  not  a  representative 
crowd  of  boys  that  surrounded  him,  but  a  miscella- 
neous crew  of  lower  schoolers  who  had  followed  in  the 
wake  of  a  fat  Third  Form  boy,  known  as  Ducky  Thorn- 
ton, the  self-appointed  chief  inquisitor  of  the  moment. 
The  noise  was  unduly  loud,  consisting  for  the  most 
part  of  catcalls  and  strange  and  weird  squeaks  from 
the  throats  of  a  dozen  excited  small  boys.  It  was  the 
sort  of  commotion  that  under  ordinary  circumstances 
Mr.  Roylston  would  have  promptly  checked  and 
rewarded  with  a  liberal  distribution  of  pensums. 
Such  indeed  had  been  his  immediate  impulse,  but  as 
he  started  to  carry  out  his  purpose,  he  had  caught 
sight  of  Finch  and  there  had  flashed  into  his  mind 
the  irritating  exchange  of  words  about  him  in  the 
common-room.  He  checked  the  feeling  of  compassion 
for  the  new  boy  and  his  annoyance  at  the  disturbance, 
and  passed  quickly  into  the  cloister  that  led  into  the 
schoolroom. 


124  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Fortunately  for  Finch  a  more  resolute  champion 
now  appeared  upon  the  scene.  It  was  Kit  Wilson — 
on  his  way  across  the  Gymnasium.  Quick  as  a  flash 
he  took  in  the  situation,  and,  crossing  the  room  with  a 
leap  and  a  stride,  he  landed  in  the  midst  of  the  party 
of  "horsers."  He  grabbed  one  small  boy  by  the 
collar  of  his  coat  and  sent  him  spinning  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  Gymnasium,  another  he  pushed  out  of 
his  way  with  something  of  his  football  manner,  and 
ended  by  applying  a  kick  to  Ducky  Thornton  that 
even  that  well-cushioned  individual  was  apt  to  re- 
member. "Here,  you  infernal  cads!"  he  cried,  "cut 
this  out!  what  the  deuce  do  you  think  you're  up  to?" 
The  crowd  of  small  boys  scattered  instantly,  leaving 
poor  Ducky,  with  rueful  face  and  painful  limp,  to 
hobble  away  by  himself,  pursued  by  a  volley  of  Kit's 
variegated  vocabulary  that  was  more  picturesque 
than  elegant. 

Finch  stood  still  where  Kit  had  found  him  as  if 
transfixed.  He  was  relieved,  thankful  for  the  rescue, 
but  incapable  of  saying  so.  His  face  looked  hideous 
in  the  bright  glare  of  the  electric  light,  drawn  as  it 
was  by  anguish  and  blazing  with  what  seemed  like 
superhuman  hate.  Kit  stared  at  him  a  moment, 
amazed  by  the  passion  of  the  boy's  face;  almost 
shocked  by  its  weird  uncanny  venom.  Conquering 
the  instinctive  feeling  of  revulsion,  he  put  his  hand 
on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "You  poor  little  duffer,"  he 
said,  "I'm  sorry  for  you.  Don't  take  it  too  hard. 
They're  a  crowd  of  little  curs,  but  their  bark  is  worse 
than  their  bite." 

"I  hate  them,"  snarled  the  boy.    "I  hate  them." 


FINCH  125 

Then  his  face  relaxed,  and  the  light  faded  in  his  little 
blue  eyes,  as  they  suffused  with  tears.  "Thank  you 
all  the  same,"  he  added,  his  voice  still  trembling  with 
passion. 

''What's  your  name?"  asked  Kit. 

"  Jacob  Finch." 

"Oh!  you're  the  new  boy,  eh?  Where  do  you  come 
from?" 

"Coventry.  I  wish  I  was  back.  I  can't  stand  it 
here." 

"Rot!"  exclaimed  Kit,  with  the  easy-going  philoso- 
phy of  popularity  and  success.  "Cut  along  to  the 
schoolroom  now,  and  let  me  know  if  Ducky  Thornton 
bothers  you  again." 

"All  right,"  Finch  murmured,  and  dropping  his 
head,  he  stole  off  through  the  cloister,  keeping  well 
within  the  shadow  of  the  wall  until  he  reached  the 
schoolroom.  There  he  was  received  by  Mr.  Roylston, 
who  showed  him  a  seat,  and  immediately  afterwards 
called  the  room  to  order. 

Kit,  having  watched  Finch  out  of  sight,  stalked 
off  grandly  across  the  Gymnasium,  dropping  a  word 
of  warning  here  and  there  to  the  groups  of  small  boys 
who  had  watched  the  encounter  from  a  safe  distance. 
Ducky  Thornton  witnessed  his  departure  from  an 
angle  in  the  wall,  whither  he  had  retired  with  a  few  of 
his  satellites.  His  face,  at  no  time  very  attractive, 
wore  now  a  most  repulsive  expression  of  contempt. 
"By  golly,"  was  his  comment,  "he's  the  swell  head, 
ain't  he?    I  wonder  if  he  hurts?  " 

"Not  as  much  as  you  do.  Ducky,  I  guess,"  squeaked 
a  premature  wit  and  got  his  ears  cuffed  for  his  effort. 


126  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

A  few  minutes  later  Wilson  dropped  into  the  study 
of  Number  Five  Standerland,  which  Deering  and  Law- 
rence were  sharing  that  year,  Carroll  having  been 
promoted  to  the  Old  School,  a  privilege  of  the  Sixth. 
The  two  boys  were  sitting  at  their  desks,  books  open, 
it  is  true,  but  rather  deeper  in  football  than  Virgil. 
Kit  received  a  characteristic  welcome. 

"Hello,  old  sport,  drape  yourself  on  a  couch,  and 
listen  to  this  fairy  tale  about  the  pius  iEneas.  Tony's 
boned  it  out." 

"Oh,  chuck  the  stuff!"  growled  Kit.  "I'll  do  it 
after  breakfast  with  a  trot.  I've  only  got  ten  minutes 
now  for  a  pow-wow.    Have  you  seen  the  new  kid?" 

"Well,  rather,"  answered  Jimmie,  "the  Doctor 
has  loaded  him  onto  Bill.  He's  to  have  Number 
Three  single  right  across  the  hall.  The  little  beast  is 
in  the  Fifth." 

"Pon  honor?"  said  Kit.  "Why,  he  looks  hke  a 
sub-First  Former.  I  just  rescued  him  from  a  crowd 
of  Lower  Schoolers  that  were  putting  it  to  him  par- 
ticularly nastily.  I  gave  Ducky  Thornton,  that 
wallowing  white  elephant  of  the  Third,  a  kick  that 
I  reckon  '11  make  his  sitting  down  uncomfortable  for 
a  week.  But  Finch  is  such  a  gloomy  little  toad  that 
I  was  almost  sorry  I'd  done  it." 

Tony  smiled.  "That  must  have  been  good  fun. 
But  I  am  sorry  the  Doctor  took  him  here ;  can't  under- 
stand it,  in  fact.    He'll  never  do,  poor  rat ! " 

"Well,  hardly." 

"By  the  by,  kiddo,  what Come  in!"  he  inter- 
rupted himself  to  cry  in  response  to  a  knock  at  the 
door. 


FINCH  127 

Morris  entered  and  was  welcomed  by  the  boys  in 
a  manner  that  bespoke  both  famiUarity  and  deference. 
The  master  waved  them  back  into  their  comfortable 
chairs.  ''Thanks,  no;  I  am  not  going  to  rob  the  lot 
of  you  of  these  precious  moments  of  study.  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  you,  Tony,  for  a  few  minutes  in  my 
study." 

"Certainly,  sir."  Tony  followed  the  master  down 
the  hallway  to  the  familiar  cheerful  study — Tony 
had  really  got  to  know  his  house-master  more  inti- 
mately the  year  before. 

"Make  yourself  comfortable,"  said  Morris,  "for 
I  want  to  talk  with  you  for  a  little  whik  —quite  se- 
riously." 

Tony  sat  down  upon  the  couch,  leaned  back  amongst 
the  pillows  and  put  his  hands  beneath  his  head, 
looking  up  at  Morris  who  stood  on  the  hearth  rug 
with  his  back  to  the  open  wood  fire.  "All  right, 
O  wise  man!"  he  laughed.  "I  am  very  comfy,  and 
all  attention." 

Morris  looked  down  at  the  boy  and  seemed  to  study 
him  afresh.  He  liked  Deering  very  much  indeed, 
better  he  felt  than  he  had  ever  liked  a  boy  before.  And 
as  he  stood  there,  he  told  himself  that  the  reason  was, 
that  beside  Tony's  personal  charm,  the  brightness  and 
lovableness  of  his  sunshiny  open  nature,  there  were 
depths  of  feeling  and  purpose  that  one  ordinarily  did 
not  find.  "Well,  Tony,  I  want  you  to  do  something — 
something  quite  out  of  the  ordinary — something  in- 
deed that  I  think  will  be  particularly  hard  and  dis- 
agreeable." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  boy,  "I  don't  exactly 


128  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

crave  hardship,  but  there  isn't  a  lot  I  wouldn't  do  if 
you  specially  asked  me." 

"Well,  I  count  on  that;  that's  partly  the  reason  I 
am  asking  you  rather  than  another.  I  want  you  to 
make  a  special  effort  to  look  out  for  Finch." 

''Gee  whiz!  Mr.  Morris,"  exclaimed  Tony,  sitting 
upright,  and  assuming  an  expression  of  exaggerated 
horror.  "I've  seen  him!  I'll  be  decent,  of  course. 
But  really,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  possibly  stand  taking 
that  little  scarecrow  under  my  wing.  Why,  Jimmie 
and  Kit  would 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  their  attitude;  but  you  know  as 
well  as  I  that  they  would  back  you  up  in  the  matter. 
I  want  you  to  be  more  than  decent.  The  boy  is  here, 
and  the  Head  has  strong  reasons  for  wanting  him  to 
make  good.  As  you  know,  all  the  chances  are  against 
his  doing  so.  In  truth,  I  should  say,  that  the  boy  has 
no  chance  unless  an  old  boy,  more  or  less  of  your 
caliber,  will  definitely  take  him  up  and  befriend  him." 

"Nobody  is  going  to  hurt  him,"  protested  Tony. 
"Why,  Kit  just  now  rescued  him  from  Ducky  Thornton 
and  a  crowd  of  Httle  bullies." 

"That's  good,"  answered  Morris,  "but  that  is 
only  a  drop  in  the  bucket.  That  boy's  life  will  be 
unbearable  unless  he  makes  a  friend.  And  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  a  boy  in  the  school  who  would  be  his 
friend,  really  his  friend, — except  you." 

"His   friend,    Mr.    Morris?  ...     !" 

"Nothing  else  helps  you  know — nothing.'^ 

Tony  grew  serious.  He  thought  of  what  friendship 
had  meant  to  him: — Jimmie — his  eyes  moistened  at 
the  thought  of  him;  Carroll;  Morris,  the  man  before 


FINCH  129 

him,  whose  deep  kind  gray  eyes  were  looking  at  him 
now  so  confidently.  *'Mr.  Morris,"  he  said  at  last, 
"you  do  know  me,  I  reckon;  you  bank  on  my  being 
clay  in  your  hands."  Then  he  laughed,  "What's  the 
brat's  name?— Pinch?  " 

"No,  Finch,  Jacob  Finch." 

"Well,  all  right — Finch.  .  .  .  The  dickens  fly  away 
with  him.    Good-night,  maestro." 

"Good-night,  my  boy."  They  clasped  hands  for  a 
moment,  and  Tony  was  gone. 

"I  am  an  ass,"  he  said,  flinging  himself  on  the  couch 
by  the  side  of  Kit,  when  he  returned  to  Number  Five. 
"I've  promised  Bill  to  be  a  guardian  angel  to  that  new 
kid." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON 

Fifth  Form  year  in  a  school  like  Deal  usually  marks 
a  decided  change  in  the  boys;  they  have  grown  more 
mature,  have  become  more  serious  in  various  ways,  have 
definitely  put  away — the  most  of  them — the  childish 
things  of  school  life,  and  are  to  be  counted  as  standing 
for  the  most  part  on  the  side  of  the  powers  of  law  and 
order.  They  are  used  to  the  ways  of  the  place,  are 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  school  spirit  and  tradition, 
and  consciously  aim  at  keeping  themselves  and  their 
fellows  in  the  good  old  ways. 

Tony's  first  year  at  Deal  in  the  Third  Form,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  been  a  varied  one.  After  the  exciting 
events  of  the  Michaelmas  and  Lent  terms,  his  life 
had  pursued  a  more  even  tenor  of  way.  Chapin's  de- 
tection and  expulsion  had  served  to  reinstate  Deering 
in  the  confidence  of  both  masters  and  boys,  and  his 
genial  sunshiny  nature  was  winning  for  him  a  deserved 
popularity.  He  and  Carroll,  the  latter  now  a  Sixth 
Former,  though  they  no  longer  roomed  together,  were 
excellent  friends,  but  his  real  intimates  were  Kit 
Wilson  and  Jimmie  Lawrence,  the  latter  of  whom 
shared  his  room  in  Standerland,  while  Kit  lived  but 
a  few  doors  down  the  corridor.  With  Mr.  Morris, 
the  house  master,  he  was  on  very  good  terms  indeed. 

130 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    131 

He  had  made  his  place  in  the  football  team  in  Fourth 
Form  year,  and  had  played  a  good  game  but  he 
had  not  distinguished  himself  that  year.  Now  again 
in  the  Michaelmas  term  of  the  Fifth  Form  year  he 
was  engaged  in  daily  football  practice,  and  was  again 
looking  forward  to  the  exciting  contest  in  November. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  Tony's  two 
friends  had  not  taken  his  declaration  of  making  a 
friend  of  Finch  very  seriously,  though  they  decided 
with  him  in  a  good-natured  way  to  protect  the  new 
boy  from  the  thoughtless  or  ill-natured  hazing  he 
was  like  to  get  at  the  hands  of  lower  formers. 

A  night  or  so  after  Finch's  arrival  at  school,  Reggie 
Carroll  dropped  in  at  Number  Five  Standerland  to  see 
his  younger  friends.  Jimmie  was  working  in  the 
study,  but  Tony  had  turned  in  early.  Reggie  stuck 
his  head  into  the  door  of  Deering's  bedroom  and  dis- 
covered its  occupant,  having  got  ready  for  bed,  just 
about  to  turn  off  the  Ught.  ''Come  in,"  said  Tony, 
"and  find  something  comfortable  to  sit  down  on — the 
bed  will  do.  Where  are  you  wandering  this  time  of 
night?" 

*'Well,  it  is  only  nine  o'clock,"  said  Reggie,  "and 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  wandering  over  to  have  a 
'  jaw '  with  you,  as  you  sometimes  so  delicately  term 
a  heart  to  heart  talk." 

"Well,  fire  away,"  said  Tony,  but  in  tones  that 
did  not  hint  he  expected  to  find  the  conversation 
interesting.  He  was  rather  pensive,  unwontedly 
silent,  and  looked  out  of  his  window  over  the  dark 
fields. 

Reggie  essayed  several  topics  of  conversation,  but 


132  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

without  much  success.  He  was  about  to  take  his 
leave,  when  something  in  Tony's  expression  arrested 
his  attention. 

''What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  boy?" 
he  asked  at  last,  as  he  playfully  grabbed  Tony  by 
the  shoulder  and  began  to  maul  him. 

" Let  up ! "  cried  Tony.  "Can't  you  see  I'm  thinking 
out  the  problems  of  the  universe?  You  mess  me  all 
up  and  I  don't  know  where  I'm  at." 

"Well,  compose  yourself,  and  let  me  offer  you 
advice." 

' '  Let  up  then,  do !  And  consider  the  appropriateness 
of  the  figures  of  speech,  as  Gumshoe  would  say.  Bill 
Morris  has  been  darn  white  to  me " 

"Rather,"  commented  Reggie,  with  a  smile,  "we 
are  all  green  with  envy  at  his  whiteness." 

"Don't  interrupt;  as  I  was  trying  to  say,  Mr.  Morris 
has  been  exceedingly  white  to  me;  so  much  so  that  I 
have  often  wondered  how  I  might  show  him  I  appreci- 
ate it.  Well,  the  fact  is,  he  has  asked  me  to  do  some- 
thing just  lately  that  I  don't  in  the  least  want 
to  do,  and  I  don't  see  how  in  the  deuce  I  am  to  get 
out  of  it." 

"Knowing  Morris,"  commented  Carroll,  lazily,  "I 
don't  in  the  least  fancy  you  are  going  to  get  out  of  it. 
He  lays  his  plans  too  well.     What  does  he  want?" 

"  Have  you  seen  Finch,  the  new  boy?  " 

"Finch?— oh!  the  kid  they  call  Pinch.  Yes,  boy,  I 
have  seen  him;  one  look  was  too  much.  It's  awful." 
Then  Reggie's  eyes  lighted,  and  he  gave  an  exclama- 
tion. "By  Jove,  I  see  it  all — the  whole  thing — Bill 
wants  you  to  be  his  guardian  angel." 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    133 

"Precisely,"  said  Tony,  with  an  expression  of 
infinite  disgust. 

''And  you,  my  child,  fully  mean  to  be." 

" Hang  it ! "  said  Tony.    "I  suppose  I  do." 

For  a  moment  Carroll  was  silent  and  his  expression 
changed  from  one  of  good-natured  raillery  to  one  of 
subtle  sadness. 

"Poor  little  devil!"  he  said  at  last,  "why  not?" 
Tony  looked  at  him  to  see  if  he  were  joking. 
"Oh,  I  know  I  couldn't  do  it,"  Reggie  went  on. 
"I  haven't  the  knack  or  the  grace,  or  whatever  it 
is  called.  But  old  Bill  is  right;  you  have.  Why, 
kiddo,  the  world's  a  hell  for  a  lot  of  people  just  because 
the  rest  of  us,  who  have  had  more  of  a  chance,  sit 
tight  and  comfy  and  don't  care." 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Tony  grimly,  "but  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  hate  to  think  about  such  things — for  a 
while  yet,  anyway." 

"There  is  one  thing  to  be  said,"  Carroll  continued, 
without  paying  any  attention  to  Tony's  remark, 
"if  you  do  it,  do  it  from  the  bottom  up.  Make  a 
good  job  of  it." 

"It's  sheer  asininity,"  protested  Tony.  "I  can't 
do  it.  Oh,  Reggie,  I  hate  him!  he's  a  loathsome  Uttle 
reptile." 

"Naturally  he  is  that,  or  Bill  would  not  be  so  ex- 
traordinary on  the  subject.  He  doesn't  mess  with  our 
affairs  very  often,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Tony  muttered. 

"Do  you  chance  to  know  why  the  Head  took 
him?" 

"Not   really — some   family   obligation,  I   believe. 


134  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

The  kid  was  left  to  him  by  unspeakable  parents  who 
died  of  disgust  at  their  work." 

Carroll  smiled.    ''Have  you  begun  yet?"  he  asked. 

''No.  I  have  sworn  fifty  times  a  day  that  I'd  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  And  now  I  am  going  to  get 
up  this  blessed  minute  and  go  in  and  have  a  talk 
with  him.  Talk  to  Jim  a  bit,  and  I'll  be  back  and 
tell  you  about  it." 

* ' '  All  right,"  said  Carroll  with  a  smile.  Tony  jumped 
out  of  bed,  folded  his  blue  wrapper  about  him  tragic- 
ally, struck  a  dramatic  attitude,  and  stalked  out  of  the 
room.    Reggie  joined  Lawrence  in  the  study. 

Half  an  hour  later  Tony  returned. 

"How's  Pinch?"  exclaimed  Lawrence. 

"How  did  it  go?"  asked  Carroll. 

Tony  flopped  down  on  a  couch  with  an  air  of  ex- 
haustion. "Oh,  so,  so.  I  found  him  greasing  on  his 
confounded  Virgil  in  a  blue  funk  for  fear  I'd  come 
to  haze  him.  I  made  him  read  me  twenty-five  lines 
to  give  him  a  chance  to  recover  himself,  while  I 
looked  to  see  if  I  could  find  a  redeeming  feature. 
But  Nature  left  that  out.  After  a  while  I  began 
firing  questions  at  him,  and  when  he  gradually  grew 
accustomed  to  the  idea  that  I  was  only  trying  to  be 
decent,  he  thawed  a  bit,  and  told  me  a  little  about 
himself.  He's  had  a  tough  time  generally  since  he 
had  the  misfortune  to  come  into  the  world  at  all. 
His  father,  who  was  an  old  college  chum  of  the  Doctor's, 
seems  to  have  turned  out  a  sort  of  a  rottet.  He  did 
something  or  other  that  disgraced  them,  and  then  he 
died  and  left  that  kid  and  his  mother  to  face  the 
music  alone.    She,  poor  woman,  didn't  last  long,  and 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    135 

then  the  Head  stepped  in,  for  old  time's  sake,  and  out 
of  mistaken  kindness  of  his  stupid  old  heart  brought 
Finch  here.  .  .  .  All  the  spirit  has  been  kicked  out 
of  him.  He'll  do  at  his  books — he  read  the  Virgil 
pretty  well — but  he  hasn't  the  spunk  to  resent  being 
kicked  by  a  First  Former.  He  seems  to  live  in  a 
perpetual  terror  of  his  own  shadow.  I  suspect  Ducky 
Thornton  and  his  gang  have  been  ragging  him  on  the 
quiet,  and  if  I  catch  that  fat  loafer  at  it,  I  promise 
you  he'll  be  sorry.  I  think  I'll  give  him  a  good  kicking 
to-morrow  on  general  principles." 

''Do!"  said  Reggie,  ''that  will  be  good  for  him 
in  any  case.  ...  It  might  be  well  for  you  both  to 
keep  an  eye  on  Ducky's  whereabouts  in  the  after- 
noons. I  have  a  notion  that  he  skulks  in  the  fives 
court  till  the  master  of  the  day  is  out  of  the  way, 
and  then  sneaks  back  into  the  house.  I  have  seen  him 
half-a-dozen  times  inside,  and  if  I  had  been  a  prefect 
I  should  have  kicked  him  out  myself." 

"Oh,  hang  being  a  prefect  where  kicking  Ducky  is 
concerned.  To  do  that  would  be  good  for  both  our 
souls." 

Carroll  laughed.  "Well,  at  it,  boy."  He  said 
good-night  then,  and  left  them. 

The  next  day — a  bright  fair  day  in  mid-November, 
only  a  few  days  before  the  Boxford  game,  when  the  first 
team  were  laying  off  from  practice,  Tony  and  Kit,  in- 
stead of  going  out  early  for  a  walk  with  their  team- 
mates, went  into  the  fives  court  after  dinner  and  began 
a  game,  keeping  an  eye,  however,  on  the  on-lookers. 
It  rejoiced  them  to  see  Thornton's  fat  ill-natured 
face  amongst  a   crowd   of   loafers  on  the  benches. 


136  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

The  bell  rang  for  call-over,  and  the  boys  ran  out 
to  report  to  the  master  of  the  day,  who  was  ac- 
customed to  take  his  stand  at  the  Gymnasium  door. 
To-day  Mr.  Roylston  happened  to  be  on  duty.  The 
roll  call  over,  most  of  the  boys  went  off  to  engage 
upon  some  form  of  exercise  or  game  for  the  afternoon; 
but  a  few  lazy  ones,  disdaining  the  occupations  open 
to  them,  straggled  back  into  the  fives  court  to  watch 
the  games  going  on  there.  Later  they  would  swim 
in  the  tank,  and  then  stand  for  half-an-hour  under  a 
steaming  hot  shower,  unless  a  vigilant  master  happened 
to  catch  them  and  send  them  about  better  things. 
Among  these  stragglers  was  Ducky  Thornton. 

About  half-an-hour  later  Mr.  Roylston,  beginning 
to  make  his  rounds  of  the  various  houses — a  customary 
duty  of  the  master  in  charge — came  into  the  fives 
courts.  He  stood  at  the  door,  noting  on  his  roll- 
slip  the  boys  who  were  present.  By  this  time  only 
Tony  and  Kit  were  playing  and  some  half-a-dozen 
smaller  boys  were  squabbling  on  the  benches.  Tony 
glanced  at  the  master,  and  saw  beyond  him,  standing 
outside  on  the  deserted  tennis-courts,  the  forlorn 
Finch  who  looked  about  him  in  a  bewildered  fashion 
as  if  he  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

As  Mr.  Roylston  finished  making  his  notes,  he 
fixed  Tony  and  Kit  with  a  glare  of  unmitigated  con- 
tempt. "The  delight  of  doing  nothing  for  some 
boys,"  he  said  in  a  sharp,  jerky  tone,  "  is  only  equalled 
by  their  incapacity  to  do  anything.  Get  out  into  the 
air,  and  take  some  manly  exercise,  or  I  shall  send  the 
lot  of  you  for  a  walk  to  the  end  of  the  point." 

The   younger    boys   sheepishly    sUpped   out,    the 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    137 

scowling  Thornton  amongst  them,  who,  Tony  noticed, 
stopped  outside  and  spoke  to  Finch  for  a  moment. 
Suddenly  he  realized  that  Mr.  Roylston  was  still 
speaking.  "Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said 
quickly.  ''I  did  not  understand  that  you  were  speak- 
ing to  us." 

''If  you  would  condescend  occasionally,  Deering," 
said  the  master,  ''to  abstract  yourself  from  the  depths 
of  self-satisfaction  into  which  you  are  habitually 
plunged,  you  would  not  make  it  necessary  for  me  to 
take  your  inattention  for  mere  bad  manners." 

Tony  flushed,  started  to  speak,  bit  his  tongue,  and 
kept  silent.  He  met  Mr.  Roylston' s  glance  unflinch- 
ingly. "Did  you  wish  to  say  anything,  sir?"  he  said 
at  last,  with  tantalizing  poUteness. 

Mr.  Roylston' s  eyes  turned  aside  from  the  cool  but 
perfectly  courteous  gaze  with  which  the  boy  regarded 
him.  "Merely,"  he  added,  as  he  turned  away,  "that 
I  think  you  older  boys — members  of  the  first  team  at 
that — set  a  very  bad  example  by  frowsing  in  the 
fives  court  on  a  glorious  autumn  afternoon  like  this." 

"Why,  it's  the  first  game  we've  played  this  year," 
cried  impulsive  Kit.  "It's  come  to  a  pretty  pass  if 
Fifth  Formers  can't  play  a  game  of  fives  without  being 
accused  of  setting  a  bad  example." 

"That  will  do,  Wilson,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Roylston 
sharply,  facing  them  again  with  an  indignant  glare 
in  his  eye.  "You  have  not  yet  got  over  your  un- 
pleasant habit  of  impertinence  when  occasion  offers. 
Be  good  enough,  please,  to  leave  the  courts  imme- 
diately." 

Kit  reached  for  his  coat,  and  as  he  did  so  he  flung 


138  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  fives  ball  with  a  vicious  twist  against  the  side  of 
the  courts,  so  that  it  bounced  back  with  a  tremendous 
spring,  and  narrowly  escaped  collision  with  the 
master's  head  as  he  was  passing  through  the  doorway. 
But  Mr.  Roylston,  having  scored,  as  he  thought,  did 
not  give  them  the  satisfaction  of  looking  back.  ' '  Gosh ! 
exclaimed  Kit,  "I  wish  it  had  hit  him." 

''Wish  it  had!"  said  Tony.  "Come  on;  time's  up 
anyway.  Gumshoe'll  go  through  the  Old  School 
now,  and  we'll  have  a  look  to  see  what  has  become  of 
Ducky.  .  .  .  I'll  wager  Finch  has  sneaked  back  to  his 
own  room.  He  mopes  there  all  free  times,  and  has 
about  fifty  marks  already  for  doing  it.  If  Ducky's 
not  there,  we'll  send  him  out  for  a  run.  If  Ducky 
is — well,  kiddo — ?  " 

"Come  on,"  said  Kit,  significantly  stuffing  a  long 
leathern  strap  into  his  trousers  pocket. 

They  turned  out  of  the  courts.  No  one  was  in 
sight ;  the  small  boys  under  the  influence  of  Mr.  Royl- 
ston's  "suggestions"  had  vanished;  even  Finch,  who 
had  been  annihilated  by  a  sarcastic  phrase  as  the 
master  passed  him,  had  crept  somewhere  to  hide  till 
it  was  time  for  afternoon  school.  Tony  and  Kit 
watched  Mr.  Roylston  until  he  disappeared  into  the 
Old  School,  then  they  started  on  a  run  for  Standerland. 

"I'll  bet  the  brute  has  got  Finch  in  his  room.  It's 
just  the  time  for  it;  besides  Bill  has  gone  over  to  the 
Woods  with  a  lot  of  kids.  Softly,  Kit,"  he  said,  as 
they  pushed  open  the  big  doorway  leading  into  the 
main  hallway  of  Standerland  House.  They  tiptoed 
cautiously  upstairs,  and  when  they  got  to  the  head, 
stopped  to  listen,  holding  their  breath. 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    139 

"Sish!  what's  that?"  whispered  Kit. 

They  heard  a  clear  long  wail  in  a  high  shrill  voice — 
*'Pleaseeeee!"  ending  in  a  squeal,  followed  by  a  deeper 
guffah,  and  the  sound  of  a  whip's  lash. 

"Hurry!"  said  Tony.  ''We'll  make  that  bully 
sweat  for  this."  Quick  as  a  flash  he  was  at  Finch's 
door,  trying  the  handle.  It  was  locked;  so  he  pounded 
vigorously.  ''Open  up!"  he  called,  "and  the  sooner 
the  better.  Open  up,  you  fellows — do  you  hear?" 
There  was  a  scuffle  within;  then  silence.  Some  one 
crossed  the  room  rapidly,  and  opened  the  door.  It 
was  a  Third  Form  boy  by  the  name  of  Clausen — a 
surly  bad-complexioned  lad.  His  face  showed  white 
now  through  the  ugly  blotches.  Tony  and  Kit  stepped 
quickly  within,  and  closed  and  locked  the  door  behind 
them. 

Finch  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  whimpering. 
His  coat  and  shirt  were  lying  on  the  floor.  Across 
his  back  were  the  welts  of  several  long  lashes.  Another 
boy — Dunstan,  a  Fourth  Former,  in  bad  odor  with 
the  prefects,  one  of  Thornton's  satellites — was  by  the 
window,  as  if  he  were  on  the  point  of  jumping  out. 
Fortunately  the  room  was  on  the  second  storey  of  the 
building.  No  one  else  was  in  sight.  Kit  grabbed 
Dunstan  and  flung  him  on  the  bed;  but  Tony,  strangely 
cool,  his  eyes  glittering,  restrained  him. 

"Wait,  Wilson,"  he  said.  "Take  the  key  out  of  the 
door.    Now,  you  Dunstan,  where  is  Thornton?" 

The  boy  did  not  answer.  "Where's  Thornton?" 
repeated  Tony,  grasping  Dunstan  by  the  neck  and 
wringing  it.  "He's  here,  I  know;  or  he  was  here. 
He  couldn't  get  out.    Here,  Kit,  tie  this  animal  while 


140  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

I  look  in  the  closets,"  and  he  slung  a  bit  of  cord  to  his 
companion.  They  made  short  work  of  the  Fourth 
Former,  who  indeed  made  scarcely  any  show  of  re- 
sistance; and  then,  having  slung  him  helpless  on  the 
bed,  they  began  to  search  for  Thornton.  As  Kit 
opened  the  closet  in  Finch's  bedroom.  Ducky  darted 
out,  and  made  for  the  hall  door.  But  Tony  was  too 
quick  for  him.  He  grasped  him  from  behind,  pin- 
ioned his  arms  behind  his  back,  and  dug  his  knees 
into  Thornton's  hips.  The  fat  boy  went  to  the  floor 
like  a  log,  and  in  a  second  Tony  was  kneeling  over 
him  with  sharp  knees  digging  into  the  soft  flesh  about 
his  armpits.  Kit  gathered  the  boy's  sprawling  feet 
together  and  tied  them  with  a  big  muffler  that  he 
took  from  Finch's  bureau. 

Finch  himself,  during  the  struggle,  had  stopped 
crying,  and  was  now  putting  on  his  shirt  and  coat. 
He  had  just  begun  to  realize  that  this  was  a  rescue, 
not  a  fresh  attack  upon  himself. 

"Now,  Finch,"  said  Tony,  opening  the  door  into 
the  hall,  ''cut  across  to  my  room,  and  stay  there  until 
we  come.  Kit,  take  that  little  beast  Clausen,  and 
kick  him  down  stairs.  We  won't  bother  any  further 
with  him."  Kit  executed  this  order  with  dispatch 
and  thoroughness,  and  Clausen  thanked  his  stars 
that  he  had  got  off  so  easily.  Having  got  rid  of  Finch 
and  Clausen,  they  relocked  the  door.  ''Now,  you 
big  fat  bully,"  said  Deering,  "you  are  going  to  get  it. 
Get  up  and  pull  off  your  coat  and  shirt." 

As  Thornton  struggled  to  his  feet — the  operation 
was  a  clumsy  one,  as  his  ankles  were  lashed  close 
together, — he  began  volubly:  "You  big  bullies!"    But 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    141 

he  did  not  go  far.  ''Here,"  said  Kit,  ''wash  his 
mouth  out,  Tony."  And  Tony  washed  it  out  with 
plenty  of  Castile  soap  and  very  little  water.  "Now 
strip!"  said  Tony.  The  bully  slowly  took  off  his  coat, 
and  then  his  shirt.  "It's  not  a  pretty  sight,  is  it, 
Kit?"  laughed  Tony.  "Nevertheless  it  will  hurt  as 
much  as  Finch's  back.    Bend  over." 

"  Please,  please,  let  me  off.  'Pon  honor,  I'll  never  do  it 
again — I  swear — I  swear — please  don't  lick  me;  please, 
please  don't  Uck — ouch!"  He  suddenly  collapsed 
with  a  squeal  of  anguish,  as  Tony  brought  the  leathern 
strap  across  his  shoulders  with  an  unmerciful  swish. 
"You  wouldn't  let  Finch  off  when  he  blubbered,  would 
you?    Well,  we  won't  let  you  off.    Ready?    Coming." 

' '  Ouch !  ouch !  I — oh,  I  swear — please — oh,  you  bullies, 
you — ouch!  owhhh!"  Then  Kit  stuffed  a  towel  in 
his  soap-suddy  mouth  and  stilled  the  noise.  When 
he  had  been  well  punished,  they  flung  him  on  the  bed, 
and  let  him  howl  there  while  they  administered  a 
like  thrashing  to  Dunstan.  He  bore  it  a  little  more 
manfully,  and  consequently  got  off  more  easily. 
Suddenly  they  were  all  startled  by  a  sharp  knock  on 
the  door.  "Gumshoe!  by  the  great  horn  spoon!" 
exclaimed  Kit.    "Yes,"  he  called,  "who  is  it?" 

"Open,  open  this  door  instantly,"  came  in  the  well- 
known  tones  of  Mr.  Ebenezer  Roylston.  "Open  in- 
stantly, or  I  shall  send  for  the  servants  to  break  it  in." 

"All  right,  sir,"  called  Kit,  adding  sotto  voce,  "It 
would  be  a  jolly  good  stunt  if  we  let  him  do  it.  Get 
on  your  coats,"  he  hissed  at  the  two  Fourth  Formers. 
Instinct  prompted  them  to  quickness;  but  not  quick 
enough  to  satisfy  Mr.  Roylston,  for  the  order  was 


142  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

repeated,  and  the  handle  of  the  door  rattled  im- 
patiently. 

Kit  unlocked  the  door  at  last,  and  Mr.  Roylston 
entered.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  this  unseemly 
commotion?  What  are  you  doing  with  locked  doors 
when  you  are  supposed  to  be  out?  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  strap?  Why  are  these  two  Fourth  Formers 
here  crying?    There  has  been  bullying?" 

Kit  laughed.  "That's  about  it,"  he  said.  An 
angry  flush  suffused  Mr.  Roylston's  countenance,  as 
he  exaggerated  Kit's  laugh  into  impertinence.  "  You 
are  going  too  far,  Wilson.  I  shall  report  you  to  the 
Head  for  bullying  and  gross  impertinence.  You  also, 
Deering " 

"You  might  as  well  take  the  trouble  to  find  out 
what  you  are  going  to  report  us  for,"  said  Kit. 

"Shut  up.  Kit,"  said  Tony.    "If  you " 

"Silence,  Deering,"  interrupted  Mr.  Roylston. 
"I  am  perfectly  capable  of  rebuking  a  boy  for  in- 
solence without  your  assistance.  You,  Thornton  and 
Dunstan,  come  with  me.  You,  Deering  and  Wilson, 
go  to  your  rooms,  and  wait  there  until  you  are  sent 
for." 

He  waited  until  they  had  crossed  the  hall  and 
gone  into  Tony's  room;  then  he  took  Thornton  and 
Dunstan  into  Mr.  Morris's  study  at  the  end  of  the 
hall  and  was  closeted  with  them  for  half  an  hour. 
Later  the  boys  saw  him  leave  Standerland  House, 
cross  the  quadrangle  and  disappear  within  the  Old 
School.  Then  they  sent  Finch  back  to  his  room, 
reconnoitred,  but  found  that  Dunstan  and  Thornton 
had  disappeared. 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON    143 

An  hour  later  there  came  a  tap  on  their  door.  Kit 
opened  it,  and  admitted  Mr.  Roylston.  The  master 
took  his  place  with  his  back  toward  the  window,  and 
made  them  stand  in  the  light  before  him.  He  cleared 
his  throat  once  or  twice,  as  though  he  were  at  a  loss 
quite  how  to  begin.  ''I  have  made  an  investigation," 
he  said  at  last,  "  and  have  carefully  thought  over  this 
afternoon's  affair."  He  waited  as  if  for  a  reply,  but 
as  the  boys  made  none,  he  continued  in  a  moment, 
a  little  more  sharply  and  confidently.  "I  find  that 
you  are  both  guilty  of  the  most  wanton  cruelty  to 
boys  younger  and  smaller  than  yourselves;  though, 
I  understand — they  were  singularly  frank  and  direct 
with  me — that  you  are  not  without  what  you  will 
probably  pretend  is  justification.  Thornton  admits 
that  he  had  been  horsing  Finch " 

''Horsing  Finch!"  began  Kit. 

"Silence,  Wilson;  if  there  is  any  occasion  for  either 
of  you  to  speak,  pray,  let  Deering  speak  for  you.  I 
have  endured  about  as  much  of  your  impertinence 
to-day  as  I  can  well  stand.  You  undertook  to  punish 
younger  boys,  and  did  so  cruelly.  In  my  opinion 
your  conduct  is  indefensible.  However,  I  shall  take 
into  consideration  your  mistaken  motives  in  the 
matter,  and  not  report  you  to  the  Head,  as  I  was 
at  first  convinced  it  was  my  duty  to  do.  Doctor 
Forester  is  wont  to  deal  severely  with  bullying.  In- 
stead, I  shall  gate  you  for  a  month,  and  require  you 
to  do  a  thousand  lines  of  Virgil  a-piece  for  me  within 
the  next  fortnight." 

"Mr.  Roylston,"  Tony  spoke  up  quickly,  to  prevent 
Kit  from  uttering  the  ill-chosen  words  that  he  felt 


144  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

were  on  his  lips.  "You  are  probably  much  misin- 
formed as  to  the  facts,  and  if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  so,  with  entire  respect,  you  have  not  asked  us  a 
question.  As  for  me,  I  would  very  much  prefer  that 
you  referred  the  matter  to  the  Head  as  you  suggested." 

For  once  in  his  life  Mr.  Roylston  was  at  loss  for 
what  to  say.  He  looked  at  Tony  as  though  he  could 
not  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses.  He  started 
to  speak  several  times,  and  each  time  changed  his 
mind.  Finally,  he  said,  "I  think  that  I  am  competent 
to  settle  this  matter  without  troubling  Doctor  Forester. 
I  warn  you  that  refusal  to  do  my  impositions  will 
result  in  the  usual  penalties.  DeHberate  and  pro- 
longed disobedience  will  subject  you  to  suspension 
or  expulsion." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Tony. 

Mr.  Roylston  turned  thereupon,  and  with  what 
dignity  he  could  muster,  walked  out. 

"By  Jove,  Tony  old  boy,  you  got  him.  Bless  you 
for  keeping  me  from  blurting  out.  I'd  have  spoiled 
it  all." 

"Yes,  kiddo,  you  certainly  would.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  you  have  not  been  specially  impertinent,  con- 
sidering the  provocation;  and  what's  jolly  well  certain 
is  that  Gumshoe  doesn't  want  the  matter  to  get  to 
the  Head.  He  knows  who's  to  blame,  but  he  has  it 
in  for  us.  Painful  person,  isn't  he?  Virgil  '11  rot 
before  I  do  his  thousand  lines  or  pay  any  attention 
to  his  gating.  I  wish  he  would  take  us  to  the  Head. 
Well,  I  reckon  Thornton  will  let  Finch  alone  now. 
Let's  find  Jimmie,  and  go  and  wash  the  blood  off  in 
the  tank." 


THE  DISCOMFITURE  OF  DUCKY  THORNTON   145 

So  saying,  they  locked  arms,  and  went  singing  ''Up 
above  the  school-topp'd  hill"  down  the  corridor.  They 
met  Mr.  Morris  at  the  outer  door  of  Standerland 
House.  ''Well,  you  seem  to  be  particularly  frisky 
this  afternoon,"  said  he,  "what's  up?" 

"Absolutely  nothing,"  laughed  Kit;  "we're  just 
two  good  pure  innocent  happy  schoolboys.  Come  on, 
magister;  come  for  a  dip  with  us  in  the  tank." 

"Well,  wait  a  second,  while  I  stow  sweater  and 
stick,  and  I'll  be  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XII 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME 


For  the  next  few  days  Thornton's  thrashing  was  the 
principal  theme  of  the  school  talk.  The  story  was  told, 
though  no  one  knew  whence  it  originated.  Tony  and 
Kit  dismissed  it  with  a  laugh  or  an  exclamation,  but 
Finch,  interrogated  on  all  hands,  gave  a  correct 
version.  Thornton  and  his  friends  kept  themselves 
in  the  background  for  a  week  or  so,  but  nursed  their 
grudge  with  the  dogged  determination  of  ill-will, 
and  when  occasion  offered  continued  to  torture  Finch 
on  the  sly,  but  not  so  brutally. 

The  chief  satisfaction  that  Tony  got  out  of  the 
incident,  after  the  pleasure  of  thrashing  a  bully,  was 
his  talk  with  the  Head  on  the  subject.  "I  hear," 
said  Doctor  Forester,  as  he  stopped  Deering  after 
Chapel  one  morning,  "that  there  have  been  some 
lively  doings  in  Standerland  of  late,  in  the  absence 
of  the  masters." 

Tony,  not  yet  sure  of  the  Doctor's  attitude,  blushed 
and  stammered  something  that  was  quite  unintelligible. 
The  Head  eyed  him  keenly.  "For  once,"  he  said, 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  "I  am 
not  disposed  to  object  to  a  somewhat  vigorous  method 
of  taking  the  law  into  your  own  hands.  I  fancy  you 
will  have  been  successful  in  putting  an  end  to  the 

146 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  147 

brutal  hazing  to  which  young  Finch  has  been  sub- 
jected." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tony.  "We  were  a  bit 
rough  and  pretty  generally  out  of  order,  but  we  hoped 
the  end  justified  the  means." 

The  Doctor  smiled  and  went  on. 

Tony  found  Kit  at  the  lobby  outside  the  schoolroom, 
and  repeated  the  conversation  in  great  glee. 

"Great  man,  the  Doctor!"  remarked  Kit,  ju- 
diciously. "Now  I  guess  we'll  let  the  Gumshoe 
whistle  for  his  lines.  What  a  relief  it  is  occasionally 
to  meet  with  broad-mindedness  on  the  part  of  those 
who  are  charged  with  our  education.  Same  with 
the  Gumshoe's  gating,"  he  added,  in  illogical  par- 
enthesis. 

The  opportunity  to  test  Mr.  Roylston's  whistling 
powers  came  sooner  than  they  expected.  The  day 
before  the  Boxford  game.  Jack  Stenton  called  off  the 
football  practice,  and  had  the  school  in  to  a  mass 
meeting  in  the  Gymnasium.  The  boys  sang  the 
school  songs  with  their  traditional  vigor,  and  listened 
with  the  utmost  good  nature  and  appreciation  to 
speeches  that  in  many  cases  had  been  delivered  a 
dozen  times  before.  The  Doctor  remarked  that  it 
was  difficult  to  be  original  on  such  occasions,  as  though 
he  was  making  the  remark  for  the  first  time;  but  at 
the  risk  of  repeating  himself  he  did  not  mind  saying 
that  they  had  supreme  confidence  in  the  prowess  of 
the  team  and  that  the  school  was  confident  of  a  victory 
on  the  morrow.  Stenton  gave,  in  his  matter  of  fact 
way,  impressing  the  boys  deeply,  a  careful  estimate 
of  the  abilities  of  the   different  players  and  what 


148  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

might  be  expected  of  them  in  the  game,  and  offered  a 
judicial  estimate  that  the  score  would  be  two  touch- 
downs to  none  in  favor  of  Deal.  Billy  Wendell, 
the  captain,  stammered,  in  the  traditional  captain's 
manner,  that  the  team  wanted  the  school  behind  them, 
and  that — that  was  about  all  he  had  to  say.  Other 
members  of  the  faculty  made  remarks,  some  of  which 
were  witty,  some  merely  facetious,  but  all  received 
with  wild  applause.  Then  they  sang  some  more, 
cheered  for  the  team,  for  the  school,  for  Jack  Stenton, 
for  Billy  Wendell,  and  the  meeting  was  concluded  by 
the  Head  declaring  a  half-holiday  for  the  team,  and 
removing  Monday  Port  bounds  for  the  afternoon  in 
behalf  of  the  two  upper  forms.  Many  of  the  boys  had 
friends  coming  on  the  afternoon  trains,  and  counted 
on  this  largess  as  a  general  permission  to  go  in  and 
meet  them. 

Kit's  mother  was  coming,  with  a  couple  of  girls. 
Rooms  for  them  had  been  taken  at  the  Deal  Inn  on 
the  Port  Road  near  the  school.  Immediately  after 
the  mass-meeting  Kit  called  to  Tony,  and  asked 
him  to  go  in  with  him  to  the  depot  and  meet  the  five 
o'clock  train. 

"Are  we  really  going  to  break  the  Gumshoe's 
gating?"  asked  Tony. 

"We  certainly  are,"  responded  Kit  cheerfully.  "To 
heck  with  the  Gumshoe;  bounds  are  off  for  the  after- 
noon anyway.  It'll  be  a  good  way  to  get  the  matter 
officially  to  the  Head.  By  gum!"  he  exclaimed, 
glancing  toward  the  Schoolhouse,  "Gumshoe's  got 
call-over." 

Surely  enough  Mr.  Roylston  was  standing  on  the 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  149 

Schoolhouse  steps,  with  a  long  line  of  boys  in  single 
file  beneath  him,  waiting  to  report. 

"Shall  we  tell  him?"  asked  Kit. 

''Guess  we'll  have  to,"  answered  Tony.  "Let's 
butt  in  to  the  middle  of  the  line  for  once,  and  get 
it  over."  Ordinarily,  it  may  be  remarked.  Fifth 
Formers  did  not  report,  unless  they  were  going  into 
Monday  Port.  They  made  for  the  Une,  and  Kit 
grabbed  a  Third  Form  boy  by  the  arm. 

"Say,  Bunting,  do  you  mind  letting  us  in  here? 
We're  in  a  big  hurry." 

The  small  boy  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  request 
from  such  popular  and  distinguished  persons  as 
Wilson  and  Deering,  and  readily  made  way.  Mr.  Royl- 
ston,  who  seldom  failed  to  see  anything  that  was 
going  on  around  him,  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked 
at  them  with  an  expression  of  stern  disapproval. 
The  boys  thought  that  he  was  about  to  order  them  to 
the  end  of  the  line,  but  for  once  he  disappointed  them, 
and  after  a  significant  compression  of  his  Ups,  went 
on  with  the  call-over.  There  was  a  general  titter 
along  the  Une. 

Soon  it  was  Kit's  turn,  and  he  was  at  Mr  Roylston's 
side.  The  master  held  a  paper  in  his  hand,  on  which 
was  printed  the  school  list.  It  was  the  duty  of  the 
master  of  the  day  to  note  on  such  a  slip  opposite  each 
boy's  name  the  plans  that  he  reported  for  the  afternoon. 

"Wilson  and  Deering,  sir,"  said  Kit. 

Mr.  Roylston  faced  him.  "Now  that  they  have 
usurped  the  places  of  a  score  or  so  of  boys  who  were 
in  line  before  them,  what  do  the  Messrs.  Wilson  and 
Deering  propose  to  do  in  such  a  hurry?" 


150  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"We  are  going  to  town,  sir,  to  meet  my  mother  who 
is  arriving  on  the  five  o'clock  train." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  said  Mr.  Roylston.  "I  am  very 
sorry  to  put  Mrs.  Wilson  to  any  inconvenience,  but 
I  fear  I  must  do  so.  As  you  both  are  gated  for  the 
month,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  acquiesce  in  your 
ingenuous  proposal." 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Kit,  "but  the  Head 
has  declared  bounds  off  for  the  afternoon." 

"Undoubtedly,"  commented  Mr.  Roylston,  "but 
I  have  had  the  unpleasant  duty  of  gating  you  for  a 
month.    Next!" 

Wilson  and  Deering  were  swept  on  by  the  crowd. 
Without  further  ado,  they  cut  across  the  field,  climbed 
the  stone  wall  and  started  across  the  meadows  for 
the  town. 

In  Monday  Port  they  loafed  about  until  five  o'clock, 
when  they  went  to  the  depot  and  met  Mrs.  Wilson. 
She  was  accompanied  by  two  very  pretty  and  attrac- 
tive girls,  Betty,  Kit's  sister,  and  Barbara  Worthing- 
ton,  her  great  friend  and  a  boyish  flame  of  Kit's.  The 
party  had  a  merry  time  on  the  drive  out  the  Port 
Road  and  a  pleasant  tea  on  the  old-fashioned  gallery 
of  the  Inn,  in  the  golden  light  of  the  Indian  summer 
afternoon.  Absorbed  in  the  unusual  pleasure  attendant 
upon  the  presence  of  girls  at  Deal,  they  quite  forgot 
the  predicament  they  were  in  with  Mr.  Roylston. 

The  master  in  charge  had  a  better  memory,  and 
was  waiting  for  them  at  the  entrance  of  the  cloister 
that  led  into  the  refectory,  where  the  school  was 
gathering  for  supper.     He  was  very  angry. 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  151 

"I  will  trouble  you,"  he  said,  ''to  come  with  me 
at  once  to  the  Head.  You  have  been  flagrantly  dis- 
obedient." 

The  boys  followed  him  without  a  word  across  the 
quadrangle  to  the  Rectory. 

"A  very  annoying  case.  Doctor  Forester,"  Mr.  Royl- 
ston  began  when  they  were  closeted  with  the  Head 
in  his  study.  "I  gated  Wilson  and  Deering  for  a 
month,  but  despite  my  warning  at  call-over,  they 
deliberately  ignored  the  gating  and  went  to  town  this 
afternoon." 

"It  was  quite  necessary,  sir,"  protested  Kit,  "that 
I  should  meet  my  mother,  who  arrived  at  five  o'clock. 
Besides,  sir,  we  think  that  Mr.  Roylston's  gating  was 
unjust,  and  we  asked  him  to  refer  the  matter  to  you, 
sir,  and  he  refused." 

"That  was  not  necessary,"  said  the  Doctor,  "except 
under  exceptional  circumstances.  However,  I  may 
say  that  it  is  my  general  understanding  that  when 
bounds  are  raised  the  day  before  the  Boxford  game, 
that  for  the  afternoon  ordinary  penalties  and  re- 
strictions are  suspended.    Why  were  they  gated,  sir?" 

"For  brutal  conduct.  Doctor  Forester,  to  their 
younger  schoolmates." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  the  Head,  with 
something  like  a  smile  flitting  across  his  face.  "You 
behaved  brutally  toward  smaller  boys?"  He  faced 
the  culprits. 

Tony  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  "Why,  yes,  sir, 
I  suppose  we  did;  we  planned  to." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  the  Head.  "But, 
Mr.  Roylston,  for  once  let  us  compromise  and  temper 


152  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

justice  with  mercy.  Only  recently  these  two  young 
brutes  did  a  very  effective  and  commendable  service 
to  the  school, — they  thrashed  two  bullies  who  had 
been  making  the  life  of  a  small  boy  quite  miserable. 
Let  us  forgive  them  their  brutality  in  the  one  case 
for  the  sake  of  their  brutality  in  the  other,  where 
it  was  not  undeserved.  I  am  disposed  to  ask  you  to 
dispense  the  gating  and  the  penalties  for  violating  it." 

Mr.  Roylston  compressed  his  lips.  ''I — is  it  just, 
sir?" 

The  Doctor  smiled  in  his  odd  way.  "I  am  disposed 
to  insist  on  your  being  merciful,  Mr.  Roylston.  I 
will  guarantee  that  there  will  be  no  more  brutality 
nor  disobedience.  Let  us  threaten  them  with  dire 
penalties,  if  they  are  reported  for  brutality  again. 
Good-day,  boys." 

As  they  went  out,  they  heard  the  Doctor  say  in 
suave  and  cheerful  tones,  "Stay  and  have  a  bit  of 
supper  with  me,  Roylston."  ''Thank  you,  no;" 
answered  the  master,  ''I  have  duties  immediately. 
Good-evening,  sir." 

''One  for  the  Gumshoe,"  said  Tony  blithely,  as 
they  turned  onto  the  campus. 

Kit  was  serious.  "I  have  always  said,"  he  re- 
marked sententiously,  "that  the  Gumshoe  Ebenezer 
was  an  odious  ass;  but  I  have  always  had,  until  this 
moment,  a  sneaking  conviction  that  in  so  saying  I  was 
doing  him  an  injustice.  Henceforth  my  conscience 
is  absolved.    Ass  he  is;  ass  he  shall  be." 

"Amen,"  said  Tony.  "Fact  is.  Gumshoe's  had  it  in 
for  Finch.  Mysterious  beast,  ain't  he!  We  score 
to-day,  kiddo,  but  the  Gumshoe  is  not  annihilated." 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  153 

"No,  I  dare  say  not.  The  possibilities  of  his  getting 
back  at  us  are  pretty  nigh  endless.  But  say,  Tonic, 
old  sport,  isn't  Bab  Worthington  a  queen?" 

"Quite  the  queen,  Kitty;  but  Betty  Wilson  is  no 
mere  handmaid." 

"Oh,  bother  Betty;  she's  a  good  sort.  But  let's 
hurry,  so  we  can  get  down  early.  I  am  half  sorry  I 
asked  the  crowd.    Think  I'd  rather  have — " 

They  both  began  to  run  then  toward  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  school  was  already  at  supper. 

That  evening  "the  crowd,"  as  our  friends  called 
themselves  in  their  modest  schoolboy  way,  including 
Kit,  Tony,  Jimmie  Lawrence,  Teddy  Lansing  and 
Tack  Turner,  went  to  the  Inn  and  spent  a  merry 
evening  under  Mrs.  Wilson's  indulgent  chaperonage. 
There  were  other  parties  there,  including  the  parents 
and  sisters  and  cousins  and  an  occasional  aunt  of 
various  boys;  a  gathering  of  the  clans  loyal  to  Deal; 
a  score  or  so  of  Old  Boys,  mostly  from  Kingsbridge, 
back  for  the  game,  who  had  overflowed  from  the 
crowded  school  into  the  Inn.  In  the  proud  conscious- 
ness of  their  undoubted  superiority  as  college  men, 
the  Old  Boys  somewhat  cast  their  younger  brethren  in 
the  shade,  and  treated  them  with  patronizing  airs,  ask- 
ing them  occasional  questions  in  a  patriarchal  manner. 

Tony  alone  amongst  his  companions  seemed  to 
shine  that  evening.  There  flashed  into  prominence, 
to  their  first  observation,  in  his  manner,  his  appearance 
even,  something  of  that  charm  which  was  more  and 
more  making  him  a  favorite,  and  which,  though  his 
schoolfellows  never  analyzed  it,  was  to  be  cordially 
recognized  later  on.    It  would  have  been  hard  to  say 


154  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

in  just  what  Tony's  charm  lay,  perhaps  it  was  that 
a  certain  serious  sweetness  of  disposition,  the  finer 
traits  of  his  character,  for  the  most  part  unnoticed 
in  the  helter-skelter  rough-and-readiness  of  school 
life,  were  emerging.  Women,  who  are  always  quicker 
than  men  to  estimate  a  personality,  to  be  conscious 
of  its  finer  as  well  as  its  more  obvious  strains,  felt  this 
at  once  in  Tony.  He  was  a  success  with  Mrs.  Wilson 
and  the  girls.  His  own  friends,  intimate  with  him  in 
all  the  openness  and  yet  sometimes  quite  misleading 
circumstances  of  everyday  existence,  who  ordinarily 
thought  of  him  merely  as  a  boon  companion,  a  genial 
playmate,  gifted  with  a  nice  sense  of  honor  but 
ready  for  a  lark  and  a  risk  with  the  most  reckless, 
were  a  little  surprised  at  the  evident  impression  he 
made  not  only  on  Mrs.  Wilson,  but  on  Betty  and 
Barbara  Worthington.  His  friends  saw  in  him  that 
night  a  facility  despite  his  modesty,  a  social  poise 
untempered  by  self -consciousness,  that  more  distinctly 
than  ever  before  singled  him  out  as  their  natural 
leader.  Kit  indeed,  felt  several  miserable  pangs  of 
jealousy,  as  he  noted  Barbara's  quick  response  to 
Tony's  gayety,  and  her  unconcealed  desire  to  remain 
part  of  the  group  of  which  Tony  was  in  some  sense  the 
center  rather  than  wander  off  with  him  for  the  too 
obvious  pleasure  of  a  tete-a-tete.  But  Kit  himself 
was  too  whole-souled,  too  merry  of  nature,  to  sulk, 
and  save  for  an  occasional  growl  to  which  no  one  paid 
attention,  before  the  evening  was  over,  he  was  en- 
joying Tony  as  he  had  never  enjoyed  him  before, 
wondering  at  the  quick  development  of  this  social 
side  of  his  character  which  had  been  unobserved. 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  155 

As  for  Tony  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  anything 
save  thac  he  was  enjoying  himself  immensely;  that 
Betty  Wilson  was  an  extremely  attractive  girl,  a 
thoroughly  "good  sort,"  as  Kit  had  said;  and  that 
he  wished  there  were  more  frequent  occasions  when 
the  girls  came  to  Deal.  He  was  not  sentimental,  so 
that  he  did  not  imagine  that  he  had  fallen  in  love. 

The  day  of  the  game  was  a  perfect  one  for  football, 
cool  and  gray,  with  no  wind  blowing.  The  teams  were 
in  fine  condition,  and  the  Boxford  boys,  who  had  come 
over  in  the  old-time  coach  across  the  hills,  looked 
tremendously  big  and  strong.  Tony  was  still  playing 
end,  the  position  to  which  he  had  been  so  unexpectedly 
assigned  in  his  Third  Form  year,  and  in  which,  through 
no  fault  of  his  own,  he  had  been  the  means  of  losing 
the  game.  To  be  sure  in  the  following  year,  when  the 
circumstances  of  that  defeat  had  been  made  rather 
generally  clear,  he  had  redeemed  himself  by  good 
playing  and  they  had  won,  but  he  felt  a  keen  desire 
this  year  to  blot  out  forever,  if  it  might  be,  the  bitter 
memory  of  that  first  Boxford  game.  He  wanted, 
quite  selfishly  he  told  himself, — and  perhaps  he  was 
thinking  a  little  of  Betty  — to  win  a  game  as  definitely 
as  he  had  lost  one. 

As  the  team  stepped  out  onto  the  field  that  after- 
noon, resplendent  in  their  red  sweaters  with  the  big 
black  D  across  the  breast,  and  he  sniffed  the  cool  air 
and  heard  the  chorus  of  Deal  cheers  ring  down  the 
lines,  he  hfted  his  head  Uke  a  good  hunter  keen  for 
the  chase,  and  a  thrill  of  determination  went  through 
him  like  a  shiver.    They  must  win! 

Billy  Wendell  had  the  ball  under  his  arm  as  they 


156  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

came  onto  the  field.  Immediately  he  tossed  it  to  Kit, 
prominent  to  the  spectators  for  his  shock  of  yellow 
hair  and  his  bright  red  cheeks  despite  the  fact  that 
this  was  his  first  appearance  on  the  school  team.  Kit 
tossed  it  to  Barney  Clayton,  who  muffed  it,  and  then 
made  a  quick  dive  and  fell  on  it  very  much  as  a  kitten 
plays  with  a  ball  of  yarn.  .  .  .  So  for  fifteen  minutes  or 
so  the  preliminary  practice  went  on,  until  the  boys  were 
well  warmed  up  for  the  strenuous  work  of  the  game. 

Then  came  the  shrill  note  of  the  referee's  whistle; 
the  two  captains  met  in  the  center  of  the  field;  the 
Boxford  boy  called  and  won  the  toss,  and  the  two 
teams  trotted  out  to  their  places  for  the  kick-off. 
There  were  roars  from  the  two  grand-stands,  the 
antiphonal  ringing-out  of  the  Deal  and  Boxford  cheers; 
another  blast  from  the  referee's  whistle,  and  Kit, 
who  was  playing  center,  gave  the  ball  a  kick  that 
sent  it  sailing  down  the  field  to  within  five  yards  of 
the  Boxford  goal  posts.  A  Boxford  back  caught  it, 
but  Tony  downed  him  in  his  tracks. 

Then  the  teams  lined  up,  the  Boxford  quarter 
signaled  to  his  full  back  for  a  line  plunge,  and  in 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it,  the  great  hulk  of 
a  six-foot  boy  went  tearing  through  the  Deal  line. 
Deal  received  a  shock  as  great  as  it  was  unexpected. 
They  had  foreseen  no  such  smashing  attack,  and 
before  they  could  rally  to  the  defense,  they  had  been 
forced  for  down  after  down  over  the  smooth  brown 
field  until  the  play  was  well  in  their  own  territory.  .  .  . 

We  do  not  mean  to  describe  the  game  in  detail,  for 
is  it  not  written  in  the  chronicles  of  the  boys  of  Deal? 
Wendell  rallied  his  team  just  in  time  to  prevent 


A  GATING  AND  A  GAME  157 

Boxford  from  scoring  in  the  first  half,  when  the  ball 
had  been  worried  to  within  twenty  yards  of  his  goal. 
Then  followed  an  exchange  of  punts,  which,  as  Edward 
Clavering,  Deal's  full  back,  could  kick  farther  than  his 
opponent,  gave  Deal  a  slight  advantage.  When  they 
got  the  ball  at  last  in  the  middle  of  the  field,  they 
made  a  few  gains  by  end  runs.  They  were  swifter, 
more  ingenious,  better  kickers  than  the  Boxford  boys, 
but  the  team  from  over  the  hills  had  the  advantage 
in  weight  and  strength. 

During  the  intermission  between  the  halves  Stenton 
did  his  best  to  hearten  his  boys,  but  it  was  a  poor 
best,  for  he  felt  pretty  certain  that  they  were  bound 
to  be  scored  against  heavily  in  the  next  half.  They 
could  not  stand  the  smashing  of  the  line — already 
Clayton  and  one  or  two  others  had  been  taken  out. 

The  second  half  saw  a  repetition  of  the  tactics  of 
the  first.  Boxford  persistently  hit  the  line,  and  within 
five  minutes  of  the  play  had  scored  the  inevitable 
touchdown.  The  enthusiasm  of  their  supporters  was 
only  a  trifle  dampened  when  they  failed  to  kick  the 
goal.  After  that  Deal  worried  them  a  good  deal  with 
trick  plays,  and  once  after  gaining  a  considerable 
distance  by  an  exceptionally  long  punt  and  a  fumble, 
they  seemed  within  striking  distance  of  the  goal. 
Clavering  tried  for  a  field  goal,  but  to  the  sharp  distress 
of  his  supporters  the  ball  went  wide  of  the  mark. 
Boxford  took  the  ball  on  their  twenty-five  yard  line, 
and  renewed  their  demoralizing  attack.  Despite  the 
Deal  boys'  desperate  efforts,  the  ball  was  forced 
back  into  their  territory,  straight  down  the  field  by 
smashing  center  plays  toward  their  goal.     Poor  Kit 


158  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

had  been  carried  off,  bruised  and  lame,  but  not  seriously 
hurt;  the  veteran  Clavering  had  succumbed,  and  Deal 
was  left  to  finish  the  game  with  a  team  that  was 
half  composed  of  substitutes.  It  was  a  question  now, 
it  seemed,  of  simply  keeping  down  the  score. 

Boxford  fumbled,  and  again  they  escaped  danger  for 
the  moment.  But  soon  the  ball  had  been  worried  again 
dangerously  near  their  goal.  Twenty-five,  twenty,  fif- 
teen yards — Tony  measured  the  distance  with  grim  de- 
spair. Suddenly,  as  the  Boxford  quarter  snapped  back 
the  ball,  something  unexpected  happened.  Signals  got 
twisted, — at  any  rate,  there  was  a  fumble  and  a  scrim- 
mage, and  twenty  boys  were  scrambling  in  a  heap, 
when  the  attention  of  the  spectators  was  arrested  by 
the  shrill  cry  of  the  Boxford  quarter,  for  Tony  Deering, 
with  the  ball  tucked  under  his  arm,  had  emerged  from 
the  mass  of  players,  and  was  speeding  like  a  frightened 
deer  down  the  field  toward  the  Boxford  goal. 

The  quarter  made  a  desperate  effort  to  intercept 
him,  but  Tony  dodged  as  quickly  as  lightning  flashes, 
and  raced  on  with  a  clear  field.  The  two  teams, 
recovered,  were  rushing  after  him.  .  .  .  One  could 
have  heard  a  whisper  from  one  side  of  the  field  to 
the  other  so  tense  was  the  excitement.  The  silence 
was  absolute  save  for  the  pattering  of  the  swift  feet 
upon  the  turf.  .  .  .  Then  the  cheers  broke  forth,  for 
Tony  had  planted  the  ball  midway  behind  the  goal 
posts.  For  five  minutes  there  was  pandemonium  on 
the  side  lines,  restrained  for  a  moment,  only  to  break 
forth  afresh  as  Clavering  kicked  the  goal.  The  game 
was  won,  for  almost  immediately  after  the  kick-off, 
the  whistle  blew,  and  the  referee  called  ''Time." 


TONY    DODGED 


AND    RACED    ON    WITH    A    CLEAR    FIELD 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  NIGHT  OP  THE  BONFIRE 

If  Tony  had  enjoyed  the  sensation  of  expanding 
under  appreciation  the  night  before  the  game,  it 
reached  fatigue  point  the  night  after.  It  falls  to  few 
boys,  even  for  so  short  a  time,  to  be  the  hero  of  his 
school;  but  it  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  experiences  that 
can  befall  him.  It  gives  the  hero  a  feeling  of  kinship 
with  the  mighty  conquerors  of  the  past;  a  sense,  intense 
if  fleeting,  of  being  one  with  Alexander,  with  CsBsar, 
with  Napoleon.  And  though  Deering  bore  his  honors 
modestly,  for  this  once  he  enjoyed  them  to  the  full; 
with  the  fuU-bloodedness  of  youth,  he  luxuriated  in  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  with  the  world  in  general  and 
with  himself  in  particular.  He  was  not  ordinarily  self- 
important,  but  it  would  have  been  an  inhuman  boy 
who  remained  indifferent  to  the  incense  of  praise  he 
received  after  that  Boxford  game.  To  have  turned 
what  seemed  certain  defeat  into  unexpected  victory 
was  a  piece  of  good  luck  for  which  he  was  grateful, 
as  well  as  he  was  grateful  for  the  undoubted  fact 
that  he  could  run  faster  than  most  boys  of  his  age. 

Immediately  after  the  game  a  score  of  boys,  rushing 
across  the  lines,  had  laid  bodily  hold  of  him,  hoisted 
him  on  their  shoulders;  and  with  similar  groups,  who 
had  performed  like  service  for  other  members  of  the 

159 


160  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

team,  they  marched  off  the  field,  singing  the  school 
song  at  the  top  of  their  hoarse  voices,  in  dreadful 
tune  but  with  an  enthusiasm  that  atoned  for  all 
defects.  Jack  Stenton  was  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
he  literally  hugged  Tony  when  the  boys  put  him  down 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Gymnasium  locker-room. 
"I'm  glad  it  fell  to  you,  young  'un,"  he  said;  "it  was 
a  great  run  that  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  boys 
play  football  at  Deal." 

After  his  shower  Tony  dressed,  joined  Kit  and 
Jimmie  Lawrence,  and  wandered  about  the  campus 
with  them,  enjoying  to  the  fullest  the  sensation  of 
universal  proprietorship.  At  half-past  six,  they  went 
again  to  the  Inn  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Wilson  and  the  girls. 

Kit  had  a  black  eye  and  a  swollen  nose  that  hurt 
considerably,  but  which  he  would  not  have  foregone 
for  the  world;  they  made  him  feel  as  well  as  look  a 
martyr  to  the  cause.  The  girls  were  beaming,  quite 
unaffectedly  proud  to  be  the  guests  of  such  heroes. 
Kit's  bruises  seemed  to  affect  Miss  Worthington  rather 
as  ornaments  than  otherwise,  to  lend  a  fascination 
not  afforded  by  his  natural  good  looks,  for  she  ac- 
quiesced this  time  in  the  pairing  off  on  the  way  to 
the  school  after  the  dinner,  for  the  celebration,  that 
afforded  him  an  opportunity  for  the  much  desired 
tete-d-tete.  Mrs.  Wilson  appropriated  Jimmie,  so 
that  Tony  and  Betty  were  left  to  walk  together. 

Alone  with  him,  Betty  ceased  to  beam;  in  fact, 
became  shy  and  unwontedly  silent.  Tony  liked  the 
shyness,  thought  her  sweeter  so.  He  felt  a  pronounced 
sentimental  thrill  as  he  gave  her  his  hand  to  help  her 
across  an  insignificant  ditch. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  BONFIRE  161 

"It  must  be  wonderful,"  she  said  at  last  to  break 
the  awkward  silence,  ''it  must  be  wonderful  to  win 
a  game." 

"It  is,"  Tony  laughed  ingenuously.  "Do  you 
know,  Miss  Wilson,  I  feel  half  ashamed  of  myself. 
I  so  hoped  something  like  that  might  happen.  I 
suppose  a  fellow  ought  to  think  of  the  game  and  the 
school,  and  I  reckon  most  of  'em  do;  but  two  years 
ago,  I  was  the  means  of  our  losing  the  Boxford  game, 
and  I  tell  you  it  took  me  a  long  time  to  get  over  the 
feeling  that  gave  me." 

"I  know,"  said  Betty.  "Kit  has  told  me  about 
that." 

"Well,  it  was  a  long  time  ago;  but  I  never  did 
really  get  over  it." 

"But  it  wasn't  your  fault,"  protested  Betty. 

"Oh,  yes,  in  a  sense  it  was;  if  I  had  stuck  to  the 
ball  tighter,  I  reckon  it  wouldn't  have  happened. 
But  that  sort  of  made  me  feel  that  I  wanted  a  special 
chance  to-day." 

"Well,  you  got  it,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  smile.  "Of 
course,  one  cannot  help  wanting  to  do  things  one's 
self.    I  suppose  we  are  all  a  little  bit  selfish." 

They  chatted  on  then  more  at  ease,  until  they 
reached  the  great  field  behind  the  Chapel  where  the 
celebration  was  to  take  place. 

Every  light  in  the  school  building  was  blazing,  and 
a  line  of  Chinese  lanterns  had  been  strung  to  fine 
effect  up  and  down  the  driveway  and  along  the  ter- 
races. In  the  center  of  the  playing-field  back  of  the 
school  an  enormous  bonfire  had  been  constructed, 
of  drygoods  boxes,  barrels,  fence  rails,  and  various 


162  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

other  combustibles,  including  an  untenanted  chicken- 
house  that  an  amateur  farmer  of  the  Second  Form 
had  contributed  in  a  genuine  spirit  of  sacrifice. 
Around  the  bonfire  were  gathered  three  hundred  boys 
of  the  school,  a  score  or  so  of  the  masters  and  many 
of  the  Old  Boys  and  friends  who  had  stayed  over. 
On  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  there  was  a  complement 
of  sundry  enthusiastic  country  urchins,  who  for  the 
night  had  buried  the  proverbial  hatchet  usually  in 
play  between  them  and  the  school,  and  were  re- 
joicing lustily  in  the  honor  that  had  fallen  upon  the 
entire  community. 

As  Mrs.  Wilson's  party  arrived,  Billy  Wendell 
applied  a  match  to  a  mass  of  kerosene-soaked  ex- 
celsior, and  the  flames  started  up  the  pile  with  an 
avidity,  it  seemed,  that  was  impelled  by  sympathy 
with  the  mounting  spirits  of  the  boys.  A  dozen 
rockets  were  fired  off  simultaneously,  three  hundred 
Roman  candles  were  exploded,  and  a  score  of  red 
fiires  were  lighted  in  various  parts  of  the  field.  There 
was  a  sudden  blaze  of  splendid  light. 

Soon  the  magnificent  bonfire  dominated  the  interest. 
The  boys  circled  about  it,  hand  in  hand,  shouting, 
cheering,  singing.  The  school  bells  rang  out  joyously 
on  the  frosty  night;  the  strains  of  the  school  songs 
echoed  and  re-echoed,  until  was  caught  up  in  full 
chorus  by  those  hundreds  of  happy  voices,  the 
triumphal  song, — 

"  Palms  of  victory,  palms  of  glory." 

Finally  they  hoisted  Billy  Wendell,  the  captain, 
up  on  the  wooden  rostrum  that  was  brought  out  on 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  BONFIRE  163 

such  occasions;  and  after  more  wild  and  intense 
cheering  when  the  cheer  leaders  had  sunk  back  almost 
exhausted  by  their  efforts,  they  gave  him  a  chance  to 
speak.  "Fellows,"  said  Billy,  with  not  more  than  the 
usual  oratorical  grace  but  with  an  effect  that  many  a 
trained  orator  might  have  envied,  "Fellows,  I  guess 
we're  all  glad  we  won.  I  can't  make  a  speech;  and 
anyway  there's  some  one  else  here  to  whom  our 
victory  to-day  really  is  due.  And  I  move  we  have 
Tony  Deering  up  here,  and  tell  him  what  we  think  of 
him." 

Frantic  howls  as  Billy  leaped  down,  and  a  dozen 
boys  hustled  Tony  with  rough-and-ready  good  will 
up  to  the  rostrum,  pajdng  absolutely  no  attention 
to  his  protests.  Tony's  presence  of  mind  quite  de- 
serted him  as  he  faced  the  encircHng  crowd  of  eager, 
flame-brightened  faces, — also  the  feeling  that  there 
was  anything  heroic  in  being  a  hero.  As  they  cheered 
and  cheered  him  to  the  echo,  he  had  a  moment  in 
which  to  gather  his  wits.  "Fellows,"  he  said  at 
last,  when  the  crowd  had  become  quiet,  "I'm  mighty 
grateful  for  the  way  in  which  you've  treated  me. 
But  I  don't  deserve  it.  The  ball  popped  into  my 
arms  in  the  scrimmage,  and  I  just  ran.  Any  other 
fellow  would  have  done  the  same.  What  really  won," 
he  added,  "was  that  the  team  had  made  a  good  defense 
against  a  whirlwind  attack  at  critical  moments.  And 
that's  the  reason  that  when  we  got  a  chance  to  score, 
it  meant  a  victory.  Ned  Clavering  scored  the  winning 
point  by  kicking  the  goal." 

With  that  he  jumped  down,  struggled  through  the 
crowd,  and  slipped  unobserved  to  the  outskirts  of 


164  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  circle.  Other  boys  were  being  elevated  to  the 
rostrum,  so  that  attention  was  diverted  from  him. 
For  himself,  his  heart  was  full,  and  for  the  moment 
he  wanted  to  be  alone. 

He  could  not  hear  the  speeches  from  where  he  stood, 
but  the  scene  was  before  him  like  the  stage  at  a  play. 
Suddenly  he  noticed,  standing  quite  near  him,  apart 
from  the  jubilant  crowd,  the  lonely,  pathetic  little 
figure  of  the  despised  Finch.  The  boy  was  gazing 
at  Tony  intently,  with  an  expression  of  pathetic 
admiration,  the  self-forgetting  admiration  sometimes 
experienced  when  we  behold  a  noble  or  a  fine  action 
in  which  we  have  had  no  part,  of  which  we  are  in- 
capable. There  was  longing  in  the  boy's  pale  watery 
little  eyes,  and  his  mouth  was  twisted  out  of  shape, 
as  though  it  were  not  fashioned  to  express  the  un- 
wonted emotions  that  stirred  his  soul.  As  Tony 
glanced  at  him,  with  a  flash  of  intuition,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  thoroughly  understood  the  half -starved 
soul  of  Jacob  Finch,  his  pathetic  and  terrible  loneliness, 
his  unreasoned  terrors  of  life,  his  ardent  unsatisfied 
longings  for  the  boyish  friendliness  and  companionship 
about  him  in  which  he  had  no  part.  .  .  .  Involuntarily 
Tony  moved  toward  him,  and  obeying  an  impulse 
quite  devoid  of  that  repulsion  that  Finch  usually 
stirred  in  him,  he  threw  his  arm  carelessly  over  the 
boy's  shoulder.  ''It's  a  great  sight,  kid;  ain't  it?" 
he  said. 

Finch  was  trembling  as  if  he  had  a  chill.  His  eyes 
glanced  for  a  moment  into  Tony's  intensely,  then 
shifted,  and  he  answered  in  a  queer  hoarse  tone,  "I 
'spose  so.     I  dunno."     And  then  he  added,  fiercely. 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  BONFIRE  165 

"But  I'm  glad — I'm  glad  you  made  that  run."  The 
next  instant,  as  if  his  own  speech  had  frightened  him, 
he  shook  Tony's  arm  from  his  shoulder,  and  slipped 
away  into  the  shadows.  Tony  saw  him  no  more  that 
night. 

''Poor  kid!"  he  thought,  and  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  He  had  seen  unhappiness  before,  in  his  own 
home,  and  the  memory  of  it  was  bitter.  Here  at 
school  he  had  forgotten  it  all;  the  world  had  seemed 
a  bright  and  a  happy  place,  and  he  was  happy  in  it. 
Poor  Finch  brought  back  to  him  intensely  the  realiza- 
tion that  life  was  not  altogether  as  free  from  care,  as 
full  of  affection  and  kindness  and  joy,  as  this  gay 
scene  and  jubilant  celebration  would  indicate.  There 
was  bitterness  in  the  thought,  and  yet,  in  a  way,  he 
was  not  sorry  it  had  come.  It  seemed  to  him  now 
that  for  the  last  few  days  he  had  been  absolutely 
absorbed  in  himself,  in  fact  that  he  had  been  living 
self-absorbed  for  a  long  time ;  that  despite  his  generous 
words  from  the  rostrum,  what  he  had  really  been  glad 
of  in  the  victory  was,  that  it  had  been  so  largely  due 
to  him. 

Suddenly  he  gave  the  tree  against  which  he  was 
standing  a  vigorous  kick.  What  a  fool  he  was!  to  be 
silly  with  delight  at  winning  a  football  game  when 
just  across  the  hall  from  him  there  lived  such  Hvid 
boyish  misery! 

At  length  he  resought  his  companions,  and  when 
at  last  the  celebration  was  over,  and  the  great  blazing 
pile  of  the  bonfire  had  collapsed,  he  walked  back 
again  with  Kit's  party  to  the  Inn.  Both  Betty  and 
he  were  quieter  now  than  before.    She  was  shy  again, 


166  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

and  this  time  he  could  think  of  nothing  to  say.  Their 
commonplaces  about  the  celebration  fell  flat. 

''You  are  going  to-morrow?"  he  asked  abruptly, 
as  they  turned  into  the  grounds  of  the  Inn. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "quite  early.  Bab  and  I 
are  at  school  too,  you  know?" 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  wish  I  could  see  you  some- 
times. .  .  ." 

"Well,  can't  you?  .  .  .  You'll  be  coming  home 
with  Kit  some  holiday." 

"Perhaps  I  will.  I  hope  so."  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  then  with  a  strange  shyness,  he  said,  "Will 
you — will  you  give  me  those  violets?" 

Betty  was  silent.  She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 
unpinned  the  violets  from  her  dress,  and  gave  them 
to  him.  Their  hands  met  in  the  dark,  and  fluttered 
in  a  little  clasp  for  the  moment.  Then  Tony  slipped 
the  violets  into  his  pocket.  They  were  at  the  Inn 
steps,  and  to  the  surprise  of  all,  he  declined  to  come 
in,  but  bade  them  good-bye  there. 

Instead  of  going  back  to  the  school,  he  struck  across 
the  meadows  to  the  beach.  It  had  cleared  at  nightfall, 
and  the  stars  were  shining  in  a  deep  blue  sky,  and  a 
lovely  young  crescent  moon,  cloud-clung,  hung  in  the 
west.  Tony  walked  up  the  beach  alone,  thinking, 
feeling  intensely.  The  silent  somber  beauty  of  the 
night,  the  great  stars,  the  lazy  splash  of  the  little 
foam-jflecked  waves  upon  the  sands,  the  cool  frosty 
dark,  appealed  to  him  deeply.  He  could  scarcely 
have  told  of  what  he  was  thinking :  of  various  things — 
the  day's  events,  the  celebration,  Betty  and  the  vio- 
lets she  had  given  him,  Finch  and  his  hungry  eyes, 


THE  NIGHT  OF  THE  BONFIRE  167 

life.  The  world  seemed  beautiful  to  him,  but  strange 
and  sad.  .  .  .  Years  afterward  he  was  to  recall  that 
night,  and  remember  that  it  had  marked  a  definite 
moment  in  the  process  of  his  coming  to  himself. 

At  the  end  of  the  beach  he  met  Mr.  Morris,  who  was 
also  walking  alone.  "Hello,"  exclaimed  the  master, 
"what  are  you  doing  here?  The  conqueror  is  tired 
of  plaudits,  eh?  " 

"What  brings  you,  magister?  ...  I  wanted  to  be 
alone  I  guess." 

"And  I,"  said  Morris,  with  a  smile.  "Sometimes 
a  day  of  excitement  reacts  on  me  Uke  this.  I  need 
to  round  it  off  with  a  walk  by  myself.  Let's  go  back 
together  though,  if  you  have  had  enough  of  yourself 
as  I  have." 

"Quite  enough,"  said  Tony,  as  he  turned  with  the 
older  man  back  toward  the  school. 

For  a  while  they  said  nothing,  but  eventually  the 
master,  by  tactful  questions,  led  the  boy  to  talk  of 
himself.  There  followed  one  of  those  long  quiet  con- 
versations that  come  so  rarely,  but  mean  so  much 
to  boy  and  master  when  they  come.  When  they 
reached  the  school  all  of  the  lights  were  out  save  for 
a  glow  at  the  spot  where  the  bonfire  had  been.  They 
shook  hands  and  parted  at  the  door  of  Morris's  study. 

The  schoolmaster,  when  he  was  alone,  instead  of 
lighting  his  lamp,  stood  for  a  long  while  before  the 
glowing  embers  of  the  fire  on  his  hearth,  absorbed 
in  his  thoughts.  He  had  had  a  bad  day,  a  stupid 
day  after  the  excitement  of  the  game,  for  there  had 
come  upon  him  one  of  those  unaccountable  and  un- 
reasonable moods  of  depression  wherein  it  seemed  to 


168  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

him  that  he  was  wasting  his  hfe  in  the  obscurity 
of  a  petty  profession,  wasting  the  talents,  abilities, 
ambitions,  that  in  college  days  had  promised  a 
brilliant  career.  He  knew  it  was  but  a  mood,  but  he 
had  not  been  able  to  shake  it  off.  Other  fellows, 
classmates  of  his  at  school  and  college,  had  been  back, 
with  their  good-natured,  ill-chosen  greetings  that  drove 
the  iron  deeper  into  his  soul:  "Old  Morris — holding 
the  fort — still  on  the  old  campground,  eh?"  and  the 
like. 

As  he  stood  before  his  dying  fire  that  night,  he 
recalled  the  mood  of  the  afternoon  and  marveled  to 
realize  that  it  was  gone.  He  asked  himself  the  reason 
for  its  going,  but  he  knew  the  answer.  He  knew  in 
his  heart  that  the  best  he  was,  the  best  he  could  be, 
counted  here  at  Deal  as  much,  perhaps,  more,  than  it 
could  count  elsewhere;  and  that  it  counted  despite 
the  obscurity,  despite  the  lack  of  recognition  where 
he  would  so  keenly  have  valued  it,  from  those  who 
had  expected  good  things  from  him  in  days  gone  by. 
And  he  knew  that  the  real  compensation  was  in  the 
response  he  got  from,  the  stimulus  he  gave  to,  boys 
like  Tony  Deering.  Once  in  a  while  it  was  given  him 
to  see  the  meaning  of  his  life,  as  in  a  vision.  He  knew 
to-night,  as  perhaps  he  had  never  definitely  put  it  to 
himself  before,  that  he  would  stay  on  at  Deal  for  good 
and  all,  give  his  best,  not  only  for  a  time  as  for  years 
he  had  somehow  supposed  it  would  only  be,  but  his 
best  for  as  long  as  he  lived.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  SPECTACLE 


Games  and  girls  fortunately  are  but  interludes  in 
schoolboy  life.  Were  it  otherwise,  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  the  specific  objects  for  which  boys  are  sent  away 
from  home  during  such  valuable  years  would  receive 
but  Uttle  of  their  attention.  There  were  to  be  no 
more  games,  except  indoor  baseball  and  fives,  until  the 
hockey  season  which  rarely  set  in  before  the  Christmas 
holidays. 

The  Uttle  group  of  boys,  whose  fortunes  we  have 
been  following,  were  not  particularly  interested  in 
indoor  baseball,  except  Jimmie,  whose  athletic  achieve- 
ments had  been  altogether  on  the  diamond  in  the 
spring.  And  it  was  well  they  were  not,  for  studies 
had  been  suffering  during  the  football  season,  and  at 
the  exams,  which  came  the  week  following  the  Boxford 
game,  both  Tony  and  Kit  found  that  they  were 
standing  lower  in  the  school  than  they  had  ever  stood 
before.  Judicious  advice  from  the  Head  and  a  sharp 
letter  from  old  General  Deering,  who,  though  he  was 
proud  of  Tony's  athletic  honors,  regarded  them  as 
no  substitute  for  scholastic  achievements,  kept  him 
pretty  closely  at  his  books. 

As  for  girls,  he  and  Betty  exchanged  a  few  rather 
commonplace  letters,  but  as  the  keen-eyed  mistress 

169 


170  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

at  Betty's  school  soon  detected  the  nature  of  her 
correspondence,  their  letters  were  few  and  far  between. 
At  the  Christmas  holidays  Tony  went  home  with 
Kit  to  the  Wilson  country  place  on  Long  Island,  and 
spent  there  a  glorious  three  weeks.  But,  it  might 
as  well  be  said  at  once,  that  though  Tony  and  Betty 
became  the  best  of  friends,  the  sentiment  that  had 
accented  their  walks  together  the  night  of  the  game 
at  Deal,  died  a  natural  death.  School  and  its  varied 
interests  absorbed  Deering  and  left  him  little  time  or 
opportunity  for  love  affairs. 

During  the  winter  he  became  interested  in  the 
Dealonian,  a  semi-secret  society,  that  held  frequent 
debates  and  discussions  before  the  school,  and  regarded 
itself  as  being  an  institution  of  great  importance. 
For  exercise  and  sport  he  went  in  for  hockey,  where 
his  fleetness  counted  as  much  toward  success  as  it 
did  in  football.  The  Deal  boys  had  capital  hockey 
grounds,  one  on  Deal  Water  which  lay  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  between  the  school  and  Monday  Port;  and 
the  other  on  Beaver  Pond,  under  the  lee  of  Lovel's 
Woods  which  though  smaller  usually  froze  earlier. 

It  was  customary  for  the  Dealonian  to  elect  a 
Fifth  Former  as  its  president  at  the  beginning  of  the 
winter  term.  This  office  was  supposed,  and  usually 
did,  register  the  boys'  somewhat  premature  choice 
for  a  head  prefect  for  the  school  for  the  following  year. 
Deering  was  elected  president  of  the  Dealonian  by 
a  unanimous  vote,  after  very  little  campaigning  on 
the  part  of  his  friends.  He  was  generally  popular, 
and  his  exploit  in  the  Boxford  game  had  brought  him 
more  prominently  before  the  school  than  ever  before. 


THE  SPECTACLE  171 

In  the  opinion  of  his  particular  friends  he  was  also 
developing  qualities  of  leadership,  which  made  him 
the  logical  candidate  of  their  group  for  general  honors. 
Tony  valued  the  position  of  president  highly.  And 
in  the  fine  fervor  of  his  good  resolutions  he  de- 
termined that  through  it  he  would  do  a  lot  for  the 
school.  The  Dealonian  held  frequent  meetings  at 
which  the  entire  school  were  invited,  and  at  which 
topics  of  general  interest  were  discussed  by  the  boys 
themselves.  It  was  indeed  through  these  meetings 
that  the  public  opinion  of  the  school  was  largely 
formed  and  guided  by  the  older  boys. 

The  walk  with  Mr.  Morris  on  the  beach  the  night 
of  the  Boxford  game  had  solidified  in  Tony's  mind 
a  good  many  resolutions.  And,  though  it  is  not 
usually  the  case  that  the  generous  ideals  and  ambitions 
of  boys  find  particular  expression,  since  the  flash  of 
intuition  into  Finch's  starved  Ufe  had  been  in  part 
the  occasion  of  his  forming  good  resolutions  at  all, 
it  was  not  unnatural  that  he  should  have  settled  upon 
Finch  as  a  concrete  opportunity  for  putting  them 
into  effect.  The  talk  with  Mr.  Morris,  though  Finch's 
name  had  not  actually  been  mentioned,  had  also 
brought  the  matter  before  Tony's  mind,  for  Morris 
had  been  the  first  to  suggest  to  him  the  possibility 
of  his  being  of  use  in  that  direction.  To  be  sure,  the 
sympathy  with  Finch  had  been  intuitive  and  had  not 
stayed  with  him  as  vividly  as  it  had  impressed  him 
on  the  night  of  the  bonfire,  but  then  it  had  flashed  so 
intensely  that  it  was  not  soon  altogether  to  expire. 
It  glowed  in  the  depths  of  his  consciousness  like 
sparks  amongst  the  embers  of  a  djdng  fire,  capable 


172  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

of  blazing  forth  again  if  fresh  fuel  should  be  added. 
Tony  proposed  to  add  the  fuel. 

He  made  a  point,  for  instance,  of  dropping  in  at 
Finch's  room  in  Standerland  two  or  three  times  a 
week  and  chatting  with  the  boy  the  odd  quarters 
of  an  hour  that  he  otherwise  would  have  spent  in 
genial  loafing  with  his  cronies.  And  though  he  cer- 
tainly would  not  have  kept  on  going  there  for  the 
sake  of  anything  that  Finch  could  contribute  to  the 
joy  of  life  for  him,  when  the  awkwardness  of  deliber- 
ately performing  a  kindness  had  somewhat  worn  off, 
he  found  a  certain  amount  of  compensating  satisfac- 
tion in  noting  the  light  of  pleasure  that  came  into 
Jake's  pale  blue  eyes,  and  in  the  relaxation  of  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  from  bitter  rigidity  into  friendly 
appreciation  and  welcome.  Gradually  too  Finch's 
shyness  wore  off  a  little  when  he  was  alone  with  Tony; 
and  though  it  can  hardly  be  said  that  even  in  his 
most  un-selfconscious  moments  he  ever  seemed  a  full- 
blooded  care-free  boy,  he  thawed  into  a  semblance  of 
humanity.  He  reminded  Tony  often  of  a  dog  that 
has  been  treated  cruelly  in  its  puppyhood,  which  never 
recovers  fearlessness  but  shrinks  even  under  a  friendly 
hand. 

And  like  a  dog  Jacob  Finch  began  to  idolize  An- 
thony Deering.  This  was  the  first  time  in  all  his 
barren  life  that  a  fellow  boy  had  treated  him  with 
kindness,  who  had  not  showed  in  his  manner  the 
repulsion  the  unhappy  little  chap  had  the  misfortune 
to  stir  in  his  kind.  Tony's  image  loomed  large  in  his 
thoughts.  The  intense  worship  he  paid  him  secretly 
did  much  to  atone  for  the  slights  of  others,  to  blot  out 


THE  SPECTACLE  173 

other  boys  from  his  consciousness.  He  cringed  and 
shrank  still  under  jibes  and  jokes,  trembled  with 
unreasoned  fear  before  masters,  quivered  with  fright 
when  he  found  himself  alone  in  a  crowd  of  boys; 
but  he  did  his  work  faithfully  and  with  the  success 
that  comes  from  persistence  even  when  a  keen  in- 
telligence is  lacking.  More  and  more,  however,  his 
inner  life  was  absorbed  in  his  devotion  to  Deering. 

From  his  seat  in  the  chapel  he  could  just  see  the 
wavy,  copper-colored  top  of  Tony's  head.  By  strain- 
ing a  little  he  could  frequently  see  his  face, — bright, 
sensitive,  mobile,  smiling  often  that  smile  of  a  sin- 
gular and  rare  sweetness  that  made  Tony  beautiful 
to  others  beside  Finch.  To  Jake  he  was  as  perfect,  as 
spotless,  as  wonderful,  as  a  god.  The  fervor  of  his 
adoration  was  akin  to  the  enthusiasm  of  a  devotee 
for  his  idol.  All  this  of  course  he  hid,  not  altogether 
but  mostly,  from  Deering;  never  voiced,  though  he 
could  not  help  looking  his  devotion.  He  would  spend 
hours  during  a  day  standing  about  in  various  places 
on  the  mere  chance  that  he  would  get  a  glimpse  of 
Tony;  haunted  the  woods  above  Beaver  Pond  in 
the  hockey  season,  where  he  would  he,  flat  and  shiver- 
ing, upon  a  projecting  rock,  and  follow  with  weak, 
straining  eyes  the  skaters  on  the  ice  below,  his  eager 
gaze  seeking  always  for  one  bright  slim  form.  And 
when  he  had  found  it,  he  was  as  happy  as  he  often  had 
been. 

Even  Tony's  friends  occupied  but  a  small  place 
in  Finch's  consciousness.  He  was  grateful  to  Kit 
for  his  protection  against  Ducky  Thornton  and  his 
gang  of  tormentors,  but  the  only  real  admiration  he 


174  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

had  for  Kit  was  because  he  possessed  quaUties — Finch 
could  not  have  named  them — that  had  induced  Tony 
to  choose  him  for  a  friend. 

Occasionally  Tony  and  Jimmie  would  have  their 
'protege  in  Number  Five  study,  but  on  these  occasions 
Finch  seemed  to  suffer  so  much  from  shyness  that  they 
did  not  long  attempt  to  repeat  them. 

Mr.  Morris  watched  the  process  with  inward  ap- 
proval and  outward  indifference.  His  own  advances 
toward  Finch  had  been  received  in  a  manner  that  gave 
him  little  encouragement.  He  was  sorry  for  the  boy, 
and  he  was  proud  of  Tony's  efforts  to  help  him  on 
and  bring  him  out,  but  even  his  sanguine  optimism 
and  unselfish  good  will  failed  to  convince  itself  that 
the  Head  had  been  wise  in  bringing  Finch  to  Deal. 
As  for  Doctor  Forester,  with  the  best  intentions 
in  the  world,  he  had  few  opportunities  of  seeing  the 
boy  intimately,  and  he  trusted  absolutely  to  Morris 
as  being  the  one  who  could  do  the  most  and  the  best 
for  him. 

Number  Five  study  Standerland  had  become  dur- 
ing the  winter  term  the  sanctum  of  a  privately  pub- 
lished and  privately  circulated  magazine,  issued  weekly 
as  a  rule,  in  pamphlet  form  under  the  title  of  The 
Spectacle.  The  inspiring  genius,  editor-in-chief,  busi- 
ness manager,  printing  department  and  reportorial 
staff  was  Jimmie  Lawrence.  Jimmie  had  always 
had  a  literary  turn,  and  usually  had  received  A's 
for  his  weekly  themes  in  English  from  Jack  Stenton, 
who  combined  with  athletic  prowess  a  genuine  appre- 
ciation for  good  literature.  In  addition  to  required 
work  for  the  masters   he  had  written  yards  of  short 


THE  SPECTACLE  175 

stories,  poems,  plays,  essays  and  the  like  for  the  waste- 
paper  basket  and  his  secret  scrap-book.  Jimmie  was 
likewise  a  great  reader  and  he  had  taken  more  kindly 
than  the  majority  of  his  classmates  to  the  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverly  papers  from  The  Spectator  that  Stenton 
had  inflicted  on  the  Fifth  Form  that  year.  He  was 
able  to  appreciate  the  genial  sympathy  and  quiet 
humor  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  essayists,  and  more 
than  once  he  had  dipped  his  pen  in  ink  to  attempt 
a  crude  imitation  of  them.  Practice  improved  his 
style.  He  had  himself  a  fund  of  subtle  humor  that 
was  becoming  more  and  more  evident  as  he  matured, 
for  it  was  a  humor  that  had  found  little  opportunity 
for  expression  in  the  crude  horseplay  and  practical 
joking  of  the  Lower  School. 

One  afternoon  as  he  was  planning  an  essay  in  the 
Addisonian  vein  and  style,  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  there  was  a  fund  of  material  for  such  treat- 
ment in  the  actual  world  about  him.  He  chose  little 
Beverly,  a  fledgeling  master,  cock-sure  and  sophomoric, 
as  the  subject  for  his  first  serious  essay  in  the  comic, 
and  achieved,  in  his  own  opinion,  such  a  success  that 
he  read  his  paper  that  evening  to  Tony. 

"By  Jove,  Jim,  that's  a  joy!"  was  his  room-mate's 
gratifying  criticism.  "That's  a  blame  sight  better 
than  the  sawdust  that  Jack  is  trying  to  stuff  down  our 
throats  in  Enghsh." 

"Well,  I  have  me  doubts  as  to  that,"  Jinmiie 
responded,  "but  I  appreciate  the  compliment  even 
if  it  makes  the  critic  out  to  be  an  ignoramus." 

"Words  of  one  syllable,  my  dear,"  protested 
Tony,  "when  you  try  to  get  ideas  into  my  cranium. 


176  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Critic  or  not,  that's  darn  good  writing.  Give  us 
another." 

Jimmie  smiled,  closed  his  mathematics  books  with 
the  air  of  one  who  makes  a  sacrifice  in  a  noble  cause, 
and  for  half  an  hour  bent  again  to  laborious  compo- 
sition. The  result  was  a  clever  little  skit  on  Ducky 
Thornton  entitled  ''The  Human  Sofa  Cushion."  The 
wit  was  broader,  and  it  struck  Tony  as  quite  irre- 
sistibly funny. 

''By  Jove,  kiddo,  we'll  start  a  Spectator  of  our  own, 
eh?  Hit  off  the  masters  and  some  of  our  loving  school- 
mates, and  let  'em  circulate.     It'll  be  heaps  of  fun." 

Lawrence  laughed  at  the  vision  of  the  possibilities 
that  came  to  him.  "I  think  it  will,"  he  said.  "We'll 
write  'em  out  in  your  clear  hand,  and  pass  'em  on  to 
the  crowd." 

And  so  The  Spectacle  came  into  existence.  Jimmie 
did  most  of  the  composition,  and  Tony  invariably 
copied  it  out,  for  Jimmie's  handwriting  left  much 
to  be  desired,  as  is  the  case  we  have  been  told  with 
other  authors.  Now  and  then  there  was  an  original 
contribution  from  Tony,  and  occasionally  one  from 
Charlie  Gordon,  Teddy  Lansing  or  Tack  Turner,  all 
more  crude  and  broad,  but  few  absolutely  devoid  of 
real  humor.  In  the  course  of  a  few  months  they  had 
composed  quite  a  gallery  of  pen-portraits,  wherein 
were  caricatured,  seldom  unkindly,  the  faults  and 
foibles  of  most  of  the  faculty  and  many  of  the  boys. 
The  Spectacle  had  a  popular  if  restricted  circulation. 

It  fell  to  Tony  at  length  to  do  the  paper  on  Mr.  Royl- 
ston.  None  of  the  articles  were  labeled  by  correct 
names,  but  there  was  scarcely  ever  any  doubt  in  the 


THE  SPECTACLE  177 

mind  of  the  reader  who  had  served  as  the  model  of 
the  portrait.  The  paper  on  Mr.  Roylston,  paraphras- 
ing his  nickname,  was  entitled  ''Soft-toed  Samuel." 
Tony  had  caricatured  broadly,  but  before  being 
written  out  in  his  neat  fine  hand,  the  style  had  been 
softened,  smoothed  and  improved,  occasional  lapses 
in  orthography  had  been  corrected,  and  the  defects 
of  punctuation  supplied, — in  fact  the  crude  strokes 
of  the  amateur  had  been  retouched  by  the  hand  of  an 
artist.    The  artist  was  Jimmie. 

It  was  a  great  success  with  the  habitues  of  Number 
Five  study.  Tony  was  so  pleased  with  it  himself, 
that  he  took  it  in  late  of  an  evening  to  Finch's  room 
with  the  idea  of  cheering  up  his  charge  who  had  seemed 
even  unwontedly  seedy  that  day. 

"Here,  Jake,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  burst  in  at 
the  door,  ''here's  the  latest  Spectacle.  Have  a  try 
at  it." 

Finch  was  lying  on  his  couch,  laid  low  by  an  intense 
headache.  The  pain  was  so  severe  that  he  could 
scarcely  respond  to  his  hero's  greeting.  "Thanks," 
he  said  weakly.  He  tried  to  get  up,  but  Tony,  quick 
as  a  flash,  pushed  him  gently  back. 

"There,  keep  quiet!  I  didn't  know  you  had  another 
headache.  I'm  awfully  sorry,  old  chap.  Rotten  things, 
those  headaches  of  yours." 

Finch  smiled,  and  writhed  with  pain.  "It'll  be 
all  right,  I  guess." 

Tony  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  "Why  don't 
you  go  up  to  the  Infirmary?  .  .  .  Can  I  get  you  any- 
thing?" 

"No  .  .  .  thank  you,"  Jake  answered.    "I'll  sleep 


178  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

it  off;  it's  the  only  way.  Don't  bother.  If  you  don't 
mind,  I'll  make  out  better  alone." 

"Mind?  No.    Only  I'm  blamed  sorry." 

"Leave  the  Spectacle,  will  you?" 

"All  right,  I'll  stick  it  here  on  your  desk.  Read 
it  in  the  morning.  Don't  forget  to  call  me  if  you 
want  anything.    Does  Bill  know  you're  sick?" 

"Yes — he's  been  in." 

"Well,  good-night,  Jake.  Tell  me  what  you  think 
of  it  to-morrow." 

When  Tony  had  gone  out,  Finch  tried  to  get  up 
and  read  the  paper,  but  the  pain  pulled  him  back 
on  his  bed  again,  and  he  lay  there  in  misery  till  sleep 
came  at  last  and  released  him. 

The  next  morning,  with  the  hurry  of  breakfast 
and  chapel,  he  had  no  opportunity  of  reading  the 
squib  until  First  Study,  which,  as  Mr.  Roylston  held 
it,  usually  was  study  and  not  the  loafing,  letter-writing, 
novel-reading  period  it  occasionally  was  under  laxer 
masters.  Finch,  who  had  hard  work  to  keep  the 
place  he  was  determined  to  maintain  in  the  school, 
rarely  wasted  his  study  periods,  so  that  he  was  ignorant 
of  the  various  devices  whereby  the  lazy  gave  the 
pretense  of  studying  when  they  were  doing  other 
things.  At  the  risk  of  an  imperfect  Greek  lesson — 
for  he  could  restrain  his  curiosity  no  longer,  he  took 
out  Tony's  manuscript  soon  after  First  Study  began, 
and  was  eagerly  and  hastily  perusing  it.  Deering's 
obvious  exaggerations,  and  even  more,  though  he 
could  not  distinguish  them,  Jimmie's  finer  touches, 
amused  him  greatly.  For  the  first  time  he  was  really 
smiling  broadly  in  the  schoolroom.     The  master,  so 


THE  SPECTACLE  179 

long  the  traditional  bete  noir  and  subject  of  caricature, 
took  form  in  his  imagination,  and  Mr.  Roylston, 
whom  Finch  feared  with  an  abject  fear,  for  once  seemed 
to  him  to  be  amusing. 

Suddenly,  to  his  intense  horror.  Gumshoe  Ebenezer 
stood  before  him,  not  in  the  spirit  but  in  the  flesh, 
and  his  long  slim  bony  fingers  closed  about  Tony's 
manuscript  as  he  removed  it  quickly  from  Finch's 
nerveless  grasp. 

"I  will  relieve  you  of  that  extraneous  matter,"  he 
observed  sharply.  "It  is  expected  that  boys  shall 
spend  this  period  in  study,  not  in  reading  amusing 
letters." 

"It — it  isn't  a  1 — letter,"  gasped  Finch. 

"It  does  not  in  the  least  matter  whether  it  is  a  letter 
or  not,"  repUed  Mr.  Roylston.  "It  is  very  evident 
that  it  has  no  bearing  whatever  upon  Xenophon's 
Anabasis  or  the  Greek  Grammar." 

He  glanced  at  the  title  as  he  spoke.  "Soft-toed 
Samuel"  conveyed  little  to  him,  enough  however  to 
inform  him  that  he  had  been  correct  in  his  surmise 
that  it  was  tabooed  matter. 

"But — but,  it — it  isn't  mine,"  protested  Finch. 

"No?"  commented  Mr.  Roylston,  with  an  accent 
of  indifference.  "I  shall  return  it  to  its  owner  in 
good  time,  if  you  choose  to  inform  me  who  he  is." 
He  glanced  casually  over  the  writing. 

"Don't — don't  you  dare  to  read  that!"  cried  Finch, 
his  face  livid,  as  for  the  moment  anger  got  the  better 
of  fear.  "I'll — I'll — "  he  half  rose  from  his  seat,  his 
fists  clenched  in  helpless  rage. 

Mr.  Roylston  turned  upon  him  with  a  glare.    "You 


180  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

will  do  what?"  he  asked  in  tones  that  almost  robbed 
Finch  of  his  senses.  "Get  to  work,"  he  added,  after 
looking  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment ;  and  then  turned 
away,  leaving  his  victim  morally  and  spiritually  pros- 
trate. 

Poor  Finch  sank  back  in  his  seat,  bent  his  head, 
and  fastened  his  unseeing  eyes  on  the  pages  of  the 
Anabasis.  The  incident,  though  observed  and  heard 
by  the  whole  schoolroom,  seemed  not  to  have  created 
a  ripple  of  excitement.  Not  a  sound  disturbed  the 
stillness  of  the  room.  As  the  master  turned  from 
Finch,  he  observed  a  hundred  heads  bent  diligently 
over  their  books,  and  a  slight  grim  smile  of  satisfaction 
crossed  his  face.  He  felt  that  he  had  reason  to  be 
proud  of  his  discipline.  He  seated  himself  at  the  desk, 
and  his  eyes  fell  idly  upon  the  first  page  of  the  man- 
uscript. ''Soft-toed  Samuel,"  he  read,  and  a  curl 
of  contempt  trembled  along  his  thin  lips.    And  then; 

"There  is  no  place  of  general  resort  in  the  school  which  is  im- 
mune from  the  presence  of  Soft-toed  Sam;  sometimes  he  is  seen 
thrusting  his  head  even  into  the  locker-rooms  below  stairs  and 
listening  with  eager  and  suspicious  ear  to  the  slang  and  careless 
conversation  that  is  apt  to  take  place  there.  And  woe  to  the  boy 
whose  tongue  is  not  restrained  on  such  occasions!  there  will  be  a 
day  of  reckoning.  Sometimes  he  munches  a  bit  of  cake  at  the  Pie- 
house,  making  pretense  of  joviaUty;  but  whilst  he  seems  attentive 
to  nothing  but  his  goody  and  the  Pie-lady,  he  overhears  the  re- 
marks of  every  boy  in  the  place,  and  makes  a  note  of  them  in  his 
little  book.  Sometimes  he  comes  into  the  general  assembly  of  all 
the  boys  on  a  Simday  evening,  as  one  who  comes  to  hear  and  to 
improve,  but  who  leaves  to  carp.  His  face  is  too  well-known,  too 
often  seen  by  every  boy  in  the  school.  The  stealthy  tread  of  Soft- 
toed  Samuel  is  ever  on  the  trail  of  the  lazy,  the  indifferent  and  the 
wicked,  and  where  he  does  not  find  matter  for  condemnation  pro- 


THE  SPECTACLE  181 

vided  him  by  nature,  he  creates  it  out  of  nothing.     The  Head 
has    .     .     ." 

Mr.  Roylston  turned  the  pages,  and  glanced  at  the 
conclusion. 

"Thus  he  lives  in  the  school  as  a  critic  of  and  a  bane  to  mankind 
rather  than  as  one  of  the  species." 

It  was  enough.  The  handwriting,  of  course,  he 
recognized.  He  folded  the  paper  neatly  and  placed 
it  in  his  pocket. 

Poor  Finch  meanwhile  was  undergoing  excruciating 
agonies.  Not  a  line  of  the  Greek  penetrated  his 
consciousness,  even  the  familiar  ivrevOev  i^ekavvcu  was 
to  him  as  the  inscription  on  a  Babylonian  tablet. 
His  own  careless  folly  and  stupidity  had  brought  about 
a  catastrophe,  a  frightful  situation,  in  which  he  could 
see  his  hero  was  apt  to  suffer  more  grievously  than 
himself.  But  in  reality  that  was  not  possible.  Finch 
was  suffering  vicariously  with  an  intensity  that  Tony 
could  never  realize,  that  in  such  connection  he  could 
never  share. 

And  at  the  end  of  the  period  he  fearfully  ap- 
proached the  master's  desk.  As  though  divining  the 
petition  trembling  on  his  lips,  Mr.  Roylston  bade 
him  sternly  go  out  with  his  form,  adding  sharply,  ''I 
shall  return  the  paper  myself  when  I  have  had  the 
opportunity  of  enjoying  its  promising  humor." 

At  recess  Finch  found  Deering  eating  his  bit  of 
luncheon  in  the  Fifth  Form  common  room.  He  drew 
him  aside. 

''Well,  Jake,  headache  gone? "  began  Tony.    "What 


182  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

did  you  think  of  the  Soft-toed  Sammy?  Why,  what's 
the  matter?  " 

Finch  was  white  as  a  sheet.  ''Oh,  Deering,"  he 
gasped,  "an  awful  thing  has  happened.  I — I  was 
reading  it — like  a  fool — ^in  First  Study — and — and — 
Mr.  Roylston  swiped  it." 

Tony  paused  in  the  midst  of  taking  a  bite  from  his 
bun,  and  looked  at  Jake  in  consternation. 

''Gumshoe  swiped  it? " 

"Yes,  Deering.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry.  .  .  .  You  don't 
know  ...  I  wish  I  was  dead."  He  leaned  against 
the  lintel  of  the  doorway  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Tony  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort.  "I 
guess  you've  done  me,"  he  began.  Then,  as  he  saw 
Finch  wince  under  his  words,  he  went  over  quickly 
to  his  side,  and  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "There, 
cheer  up;  I  was  a  beast  to  say  that.  It's  all  my  own 
fault.    It  was  a  darn  fool  stunt  to  write  such  things." 

After  a  time  he  calmed  the  unhappy  lad,  and  got 
from  him  the  details  of  the  incident.  At  last  he  went 
off  to  report  the  matter  to  Jimmie. 

Lawrence  naturally  was  inclined  to  say  harsh  things 
of  Finch,  but  he  too  realized  that  they  themselves 
were  to  blame  for  the  predicament. 

"Hate  to  deprive  you  of  the  honor,  old  chap,"  he 
said,  "but  honesty  forbids  me  deny  the  authorship 
and  responsibility  for  The  Spectacle.  The  horse  is 
on  me." 

"The  horse!"  exclaimed  Tony.  "It  will  be  a  ton 
of  bricks.  But  it's  rot,  Jimmie,  to  say  you're  re- 
sponsible. I'll  be  hanged  if  I  think  sticking  an  ad- 
jective here   and   there,   sprinkling   commas   about, 


THE  SPECTACLE  183 

and  tinkering  with  a  few  mixed  tenses,  makes  you  the 
author.  'Tis  true  it's  but  a  beastly  paraphrase  on 
Addison, — but  'twas  my  best  and,  so  to  speak,  my 
own." 

They  waited  somewhat  anxiously  that  day  for  the 
dreaded  summons  to  Mr.  Roylston's  outraged  presence, 
but  it  did  not  come.  That  night  on  his  way  to  Stander- 
land  from  a  meeting  of  the  Dealonian,  Tony  found 
a  sealed  packet  in  his  letter-box  in  the  Old  School. 
It  was  directed  to  him  in  Mr.  Roylston's  minute 
slanting  chirography.  He  tore  it  open,  and  found 
that  it  contained  the  confiscated  copy  of  The  Spectacle 
and  a  note  from  the  master  therein  caricatured. 

"I  return  to  you  under  cover,"  it  ran,  without  address,  "the 
manuscript  for  which,  since  it  is  in  your  handwriting,  I  presume 
you  are  responsible.  It  was  confiscated  from  Finch  in  First  Study 
this  morning.  I  have  read  it  enough  to  suggest  that  the  wisest 
course  will  be  for  you  to  destroy  this  piece  of  scurrility  at  once, 
also  any  copies  of  it  that  may  exist.  I  have  only  to  say  that  the 
offense  is  so  deep  and  gratuitous  an  insult  that  it  is  not  punishable 
by  any  of  the  ordinary  methods  at  our  command.  Vain  as  the 
supposition  sometimes  seems,  we  proceed  at  Deal  School  on  the 
assumption  that  we  have  to  treat  with  gentlemen  and  the  sons  of 
gentlemen. 

"E.   ROYLSTON." 

As  he  read  this  note,  Tony  by  turns  went  hot  and 
cold.  The  last  sentence  stung  him  to  the  quick.  He 
was  intensely  angry,  but  as  the  first  impulse  of  rage 
passed  away,  he  realized  with  a  bitter  sense  of  humiUa- 
tion  that  the  master  had  a  perfect  right  to  his  resent- 
ment ;  that  for  once  he,  Tony  Deering,  was  absolutely, 
hopelessly  in  the  wrong.     Alas!  while  he  had  been 


184  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

fondly  supposing  that  he  was  beginning  to  live  more 
unselfishly,  beginning  to  do  more  for  others  than  he 
had  ever  done  before,  he  had  wantonly  wounded  and 
grossly  insulted,  as  a  result  of  indulging  in  his  pro- 
pensity to  make  fun,  a  fellow  member  of  the  school. 
With  the  shame  and  repentance  warm  in  his  heart, 
he  hurried  over  to  Howard  House  where  Mr.  Roylston 
roomed,  and  knocked  at  his  door. 

The  master  looked  up  from  his  desk,  as  Tony  en- 
tered, and  his  face  hardened  into  a  severe  expression 
as  he  waited  for  his  visitor  to  speak. 

"Sir,"  exclaimed  Tony,  impulsively,  ''I've  come 
to  beg  your  pardon.  ...  I  know  I  have  done  an 
inexcusable  thing,  but  I  am  sorry ." 

Mr.  Roylston  laid  his  pen  down  and  looked  fixedly 
at  the  boy,  but  the  muscles  of  his  face  did  not  relax. 
"Don't  you  think,  Deering,"  he  interrupted  coolly, 
"that  your  apology  comes  with  a  bad  grace  after 
the  offense  is  accidentally  discovered?  Apparently 
the  despicable  character  of  your  method  of  poking 
fun  seems  only  to  occur  to  you  when  you  are  in  danger 
of  incurring  the  just  penalty  of  such  conduct." 

Tony  bit  his  lips,  but  he  felt  he  deserved  what  the 
master  chose  to  say.  He  would  not  spoil  his  apology 
by  showing  resentment.  "I  dare  say  it  seems  to  you 
that  way,  sir.  But  I  can  only  say  that  at  first  I  simply 
saw  the  amusing  side  of  it,  and  that  it  was  not  until 
I  thought  how  it  must  have  seemed  to  you  that  I 
realized  it  was  an  unkind  caricature." 

Mr.  Roylston  perceptibly  sniffed  at  the  word 
caricature.  "  Gratuitous  insult,  it  were  better  termed," 
he  ejaculated. 


THE  SPECTACLE  185 

"Well,  sir,  I  can't  undo  it  .  .  .  I  only  wish  I  could. 
I  apologize  to  you,  sir,  .  .  .  unreservedly." 

Mr.  Roylston  appeared  to  choose  his  words  with 
even  more  than  his  usual  care.  ''I  accept  the  apology, 
of  course,  technically.  But  naturally  it  does  not  atone 
for  the  offense." 

"No,"  said  Tony,  "I  know  it  does  not." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  "You  are  curious 
to  know  what  I  propose  to  do?"  asked  Mr.  Roylston, 
with  a  note  of  sarcasm. 

"No — no,  sir,"  replied  Tony  ingenuously.  "I 
don't  think  that  matters,  sir.  I  only  hope  you  believe 
what  I  say,  that  I  am  truly  sorry  for  what  has  oc- 
curred." 

He  had  worded  his  sentence  unfortunately,  for  the 
master  took  it  as  a  quibble.  "Yes,"  he  replied  tartly, 
"I  can  well  believe  that  you  are  sorry  for  what  has 
occurred^ 

"I  don't  mean "  began  Tony. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Roylston  dryly.  "I  have 
gathered  enough  of  your  meaning  for  the  once.  No — 
I  do  not  mean  to  punish  you."  A  bitter  smile  flickered 
over  his  face.  "As  I  sought  to  explain  in  my  note, 
which  I  had  every  intention  should  put  a  period  to 
the  incident,  our  punishments  in  this  school  are  not 
adapted  to  the  case.  One  has  but  two  alternatives 
in  such  affairs, — to  expel  or  to  ignore  persons  capable 
of  such  conduct.  I  have  concluded  to  ignore.  I  bid 
you  good  evening." 

Tony  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  again,  but  closed 
it  quickly,  and  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head, 
turned  and  left  the  room. 


186  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"He  means  to  rub  it  in  by  slow  degrees,  by  his 
peculiar  and  unspeakable  methods  of  torture,"  was 
Jimmie's  comment  when  Tony  had  told  him  of  the 
interview  later.  "You  were  an  ass  not  to  let  me  share 
the  responsibility.  The  Gumshoe  accept  an  apology! 
why,  he  hasn't  the  charity  of  a  mosquito.  As  Eat 
would  say,"  he  added  thoughtfully,  "he  is  'a  gloomy 
ass.'  Well,  I  reckon,  Tonio,  old  sport,  we'll  have 
to  chuck  The  Spectacled 

"Hang  it,  of  course,  we  will.  It  was  a  poor  fool 
sheet,  Jim;  rather  a  sad  business  for  two  good  little 
schoolboys  like  us  to  be  taken  up  with." 

"And  like  most  wicked  things,  amusing,"  remarked 
Reggie  from  the  depths  of  an  armchair  where  he  had 
been  an  interested  hearer  of  the  conversation.  "Like 
most  forbidden  things,  diverting." 

"What  a  crude  philosopher  you  sometimes  are, 
Reggie,"  said  Lawrence.  "One  looks  to  you  for 
illuminating  comment — not  for  the  obvious  plati- 
tude." 

"True,  my  poet,"  drawled  Carroll,  "but  there  are 
moments  when  one  inadvertently  sinks  below  one's 
normal  level.  But  adieu  to  some  diverting  mo- 
ments!" 

"Thanks!  Adieu,  too,  to  my  Addisonian  English! 
I  wish  we  could  as  easily  bid  adieu  to  the  conse- 
quences." 

"I  fancy  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  say  fare- 
well to  those,  my  young  friends." 

"Hm,  he  evidently  doesn't  mean  to  take  it  to  the 
Head,"  said  Tony. 

"  No,  not  yet,"  said  Reggie,  with  the  air  of  a  prophet, 


THE  SPECTACLE  187 

"the  time  is  not  ripe;  but  the  Gumshoe,  like  Fate,  will 
take  a  fall  out  of  you  in  the  hour  of  your  pride.  Be- 
ware." 

"Bosh ! "  said  Tony,  "I'm  going  to  forget  it."    And 
he  fell  to  work. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TONY  PLAYS  THE  PART  OF  A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL 

Mr.  Roylston  put  his  policy  with  regard  to  Tony 
into  rigorous  effect.  From  that  day,  except  when  it 
was  obviously  necessary  to  speak  with  them  about 
their  classroom  work,  he  ignored  Deering  and  his 
friends.  He  treated  them  with  an  icy  courtesy  that 
was  far  more  effective  in  subduing  their  high  spirits 
than  his  sarcasm  had  ever  been.  Lawrence  and 
Wilson,  particularly  the  latter,  were  restive  under 
the  process,  and  often  threatened,  though  they  never 
attempted,  open  rebellion.  Tony,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  more  sensitive  to  this  peculiar  method  of  revenge, 
and  it  was  probably  due  to  his  recognition  of  this 
sensitiveness  that  Mr.  Roylston  had  adopted  it. 
Deering  knew  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  ungentle- 
manly  conduct  and  he  was  not  happy  so  long  as  his 
whole-hearted  apology  was  not  accepted  in  the  spirit 
in  which  it  was  given.  But  there  seemed  no  way  in 
which  he  could  improve  the  situation.  He  tried  to 
prove  his  sincerity  by  doing  specially  good  work  in 
Mr.  Roylston's  class,  but  no  word  of  commendation 
ever  fell  from  the  master's  lips. 

In  truth  Mr.  Roylston  had  been  wounded  more 
deeply  than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  a  long  career 
that  had  been  marked,  too,  by  much  open  hostility. 

188 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  189 

But  unfortunately  he  was  not  the  type  that  could 
perceive  that  his  difficulties  largely  lay  in  his  own 
fundamental  lack  of  sympathy  with  boy  nature;  and, 
resenting  what  he  felt  was  the  boys'  unjust  attitude 
toward  him,  he  had  not  it  in  his  soul  then  to  forgive 
such  an  offense  as  Tony  had  been  guilty  of.  As  he 
looked  back  over  their  four  or  five  years  at  Deal,  the 
incident  of  The  Spectacle  seemed  to  him  but  the  cul- 
mination of  a  long  series  of  systematic  attempts  on 
the  part  of  that  particular  "crowd"  to  belittle  and 
annoy  him.  That  the  Head  had  practically  required 
him  to  give  up  the  gating  penalty,  that  he  had  perhaps 
a  lurking  feeling  that  that  penalty  had  been  unjustly 
imposed,  added  to  the  bitterness  he  felt  for  our  young 
friends. 

And  mixed  up  in  all  this  affair  of  Deering  and  his 
''crowd,"  there  was  in  Mr.  Roylston's  mind  a  sense, 
not  clear  but  keen,  that  Finch  was  somehow  concerned. 
He  genuinely  believed  that  Doctor  Forester  had  made 
a  mistake  in  taking  Finch  at  Deal,  and  the  passage 
of  words  with  Morris  on  the  occasion  of  the  boy's 
arrival,  had  irritated  him  intensely.  He  knew,  and 
was  sometimes  ashamed  of  the  fact,  that  he  had  let 
that  irritation  affect  his  treatment,  in  little  ways,  of 
the  boy  himself.  He  had  always  disliked  Morris, 
and  quite  sincerely  thought  Morris's  unaffected  good 
nature  and  genial  optimism  with  regard  to  boys  was 
a  pose.  The  incident  of  Finch's  hazing,  wherein  he 
had  punished  the  rescuers  instead  of  the  hazers,  in- 
creased his  uncomfortable  feeling  about  the  whole 
situation.  But  the  discomfort  did  not  increase  his 
humility.    He  knew  that  in  much  he  was  wrong,  but 


190  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

he  was  so  accustomed  to  the  idea  of  supposing  himself 
to  be  right,  that  he  argued  away  the  accusations  of 
his  conscience. 

On  Finch  he  therefore  continued  to  vent  a  good  deal 
of  his  spleen.  And  on  Finch  the  old  sledge-hammer 
method  of  sarcasm  was  an  effective  weapon.  The 
boy  bore  the  master's  reproofs  with  a  little  less  out- 
ward wincing  than  of  old,  but  inwardly  they  racked 
his  very  soul.  Mr.  Roylston's  attitude  affected  him 
very  differently  from  the  way  it  affected  Deering.  He 
could  not  work  in  his  class.  A  shaft  of  sarcasm,  an 
expression  of  patient  suffering  on  the  master's  face 
as  the  boy  blundered  through  his  recitation,  altogether 
confused  him.  Day  after  day  he  would  fail  in  a  lesson 
which  he  had  spent  hours  in  preparing.  From  a  sense 
of  duty  Mr.  Roylston  now  and  then  would  see  the 
delinquent  outside  of  the  classroom,  and  make  an 
attempt  to  clear  up  his  difficulties.  But  on  these 
occasions  Finch  seemingly  was  more  completely  bereft 
of  his  senses  than  during  a  recitation.  Mr.  Roylston 
mistook  this  confusion  for  willful  refusal  to  understand, 
and  in  time  treated  him  accordingly. 

"What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  you,  Jake?" 
Tony  asked  once,  after  a  trying  period  in  Latin, 
wherein  Finch  had  floundered  about  in  absurd  fashion. 
"You  know  a  heap  more  Latin  than  I  do,  but  you  go 
in  before  Gumshoe  and  act  as  if  he  were  asking  you 
questions  in  Sanscrit." 

"I  know — I  know,"  Finch  answered,  miserably. 
"But  I  can't  help  it.  I  just  can't  get  my  wits  before 
him.  Every  idea  flies  out  of  my  head  when  he  asks 
me  a  question.    I  am  doing  all  right  in  other  subjects." 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  191 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  to  Gumshoe  and  tell  him?" 

"Oh,  I've  tried,"  said  Finch.    "That's  worse." 

"It's  a  beastly  shame,"  said  Tony.  "But  there's 
nothing  I  can  do;  I'm  in  with  Gumshoe  worse  than 
ever." 

"And  that's  all  my  fault!" 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Tony.  "I  had  no  business  to 
write  that  thing  in  the  first  place;  neither  had  Jimmie 
for  that  matter, — about  Gumshoe  or  anybody  else. 
I  wish  I  could  convince  him  that  I  am  really  sorry." 

"Well,  I  guess  you  can't  do  that,"  said  Finch. 
"But  if  I  had  not  been  so  stupid  it  wouldn't  have 
happened.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Deering,  I  often 
wish  I  had  never  come  here." 

"That's  idiotic!"  said  Tony;  and  then  asked  tact- 
lessly, "What  would  you  have  done?" 

"I  dunno,"  Finch  answered.  "I  guess  it  would 
have  been  better  if  I  had  never  been  born." 

Poor  Jake  resented  Mr.  Roylston's  attitude  toward 
his  hero  much  more  than  he  did  the  master's  treatment 
of  himself.  Once  or  twice,  glancing  up  from  his  desk 
in  the  schoolroom,  Mr.  Roylston  caught  a  glance  of 
such  concentrated  hatred  in  Finch's  eyes,  as  actually 
made  him  tremble.  He  attributed  it,  of  course,  to 
the  boy's  perverse  and  willful  laziness,  and  once  or 
twice  he  returned  Finch's  stare  in  a  way,  that  though 
the  boy  dropped  his  eyes  beneath  it,  seemed  to  burn 
into  his  soul. 

Jacob  failed  miserably  in  Virgil  at  the  midyear 
examinations  in  February,  and  did  not  do  well  enough 
in  his  other  work  to  counterbalance  the  bad  impression 
of  his  abject  failure  in  Latin.     The  nervous,  over- 


192  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

wrought  state  in  which  he  had  been  living  during  the 
fall  and  winter  told  on  his  health.  At  the  best  he  was 
frail,  but  now  he  suffered  frequently  from  intense  head- 
aches that  forced  him  much  against  his  will,  quite 
frequently  to  spend  two  or  three  days  in  the  Infirmary. 

Tony  saw  all  this  more  clearly  than  anyone  else 
except  Morris.  "What  he  needs,"  he  said  one  evening 
to  Jimmie  and  Kit,  "is  to  get  an  interest  in  something, 
to  be  brought  out  of  himself,  to  get  into  something  that 
will  bring  him  more  in  touch  with  the  life  of  the  school." 

Kit,  in  his  easy-going  way,  agreed;  and  went  on 
strumming  his  guitar,  on  which  he  had  been  trying  to 
pick  out  a  new  popular  air.  Jimmie  gave  the  matter 
a  little  thought  and  asked,  "What  can  he  do?" 

"Well,"  said  Tony,  after  a  moment  or  so,  "I've 
been  thinking  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  put  him 
up  for  the  Dealonian." 

"The  Dealonian!"  exclaimed  Kit,  tossing  the  guitar 
aside.  "Why,  man,  you're  plumb  nutty.  He's  got  as 
much  chance  of  getting  into  the  Dealonian  as  I  have 
of  getting  into  Congress.  A  fine  figure  that  little 
scarecrow  would  cut  in  a  public  meeting,  wouldn't  he?" 

"Oh,  I  think  he  could  do  it,"  protested  Tony,  a 
little  sharply,  for  he  was  annoyed  by  Kit's  tone.  "It 
would  give  him  a  lot  of  confidence  if  we  took  him  in. 
It  would  make  him  feel  that  the  best  fellows  in  school 
were  willing  to  give  him  a  chance." 

"I  dare  say  it  would  make  him  feel  that,"  Lawrence 
remarked  judiciously.  "But  I  can't  say  that  I  see 
that  he  has  any  particular  claim  to  consideration. 
The  Dealonian  isn't  exactly  an  asylum  for  the  maimed, 
the  halt  and  the  blind." 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  193 

"No,  of  course,  it  isn't,  but  it's  supposed  to  be  run 
for  the  benefit  of  the  school,  isn't  it?  And  'the  good 
of  the  school'  simply  means  the  good  of  the  fellows 
in  school.  Finch  has  as  much  right  to  the  Dealonian, 
if  there's  a  chance  of  it  being  a  help  to  him,  as  you  or 
I  have." 

"But  he  hasn't  any  chance,  d'ye  see?"  said  Kit. 

"No  I  don't  see,"  answered  Tony.  "I  dare  say 
the  three  of  us  have  a  certain  amount  of  influence, 
and  if  we  chose  to  exert  it  I've  an  idea  that  we  could 
get  him  in." 

"Well,  you  can  hang  that  harp  on  a  weeping  willow- 
tree,"  was  Kit's  conclusive  comment,  "I  don't  intend 
to  try.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  lick  Ducky  Thornton 
every  day  in  the  week  for  hazing  him,  if  need  be; 
I'm  willing  to  have  Tony  bring  him  in  here  three 
or  four  times  a  week  and  bore  us  to  death,  if  he  wants 
to;  but  I'm  hanged  if  I'll  try  to  get  him  into  the 
Dealonian.  That's  supposed  to  be  made  up  of  the 
representative  fellows  of  the  school.  You're  carrying 
your  guardian  angelship  business  too  far,  kiddo.  Put 
that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

Tony,  for  once,  did  not  reply  in  like  fashion  to  Kit's 
vigorous  and  breezy  way  of  expressing  himself.  He 
reflected  a  moment  or  so,  and  then  spoke  with  an 
unusually  quiet  and  determined  air,  as  though  he  were 
simply  making  an  announcement  and  not  asking 
advice.  "I  have  thought  it  over  pretty  carefully, 
Kit;  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  try  it.  I  only  hope 
you  fellows  will  back  me  up." 

Jimmie  was  silent.  Kit,  convinced  at  last  that  Tony 
was  indeed  in  earnest,  protested  vigorously.    "You're 


194  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

dead  wrong,  Tony.  You  oughtn't  to  try  it.  The 
fellows  won't  stand  for  it.  And  you've  no  right  to 
ask  me  to  back  you  up  in  a  thing  which  I'm  perfectly 
certain  is  a  darn  fool  proposition." 

"Well,"  said  Tony,  "you  needn't  back  me  up, 
if  you  don't  want  to.  But  that's  all  rot  for  you  to 
say  it's  a  darn  fool  notion.  I've  a  perfect  right  to 
put  him  up,  if  I  think  it  the  thing  to  do,  and  I  am 
going  to  do  it." 

"Well,  go  ahead,  and  waste  your  time.  I  s'pose  the 
little  pup'U  lick  your  boots  cleaner  than  ever  in  grat- 
itude, whether  you're  successful  or  not." 

Tony  flared  up  at  this.  **  I'll  thank  you,  Wilson,  not 
to  call  my  friends  pups.  I  reckon  I  can  find  some 
decent  chaps  to  vote  for  him,  even  if  I  can't  count  on 
my  own  pals."  And  with  that,  very  hot  in  the  head, 
he  flung  himself  out  of  the  room. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned,"  said  Kit.  "To  think  of  him 
flinging  me  over  for  that  drowned  rat!  What's  the 
matter  with  him?     Has  he  gone  clean  crazy?" 

"He's  got  the  kid  on  his  brain.  But  no  sense  in  your 
flaring  out  so,  Kit;  that's  no  way  to  get  on  with  Tony. 
Naturally  he's  sensitive." 

"Who  flared  up?"  demanded  Kit,  indignantly. 
"  I'm  as  calm  as  a  millpond.  Tony  went  off  the  handle 
because  we  disagreed  with  him.  I  guess  I've  as  good 
a  right  to  my  opinions  as  he  has  to  his." 

"Oh,  for  gosh's  sake,  shut  up;  there's  no  sense  in 
quarreling  over  this  matter.  Finch  won't  get  into  the 
Dealonian,  but  whether  he  can  or  not,  I'd  just  as  soon 
vote  for  him." 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  would,"  asserted  Wilson. 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  195 

"And  what's  more  I'll  get  up  in  the  meeting  and  say- 
it's  a  darn  fool  proposition  and  ought  to  be  turned 
down." 

"What's  the  sense  in  doing  that?  It'll  just  mean 
that  you  and  Tony  will  have  a  serious  falling-out, 
and  the  crowd  will  get  busted  up.  What's  the  use? 
It  ain't  worth  while." 

"The  heck  it  isn't!  I  won't  compromise  a  principle 
for  a  friend  ever,  I  don't  care  who  he  is.  Nor  I  won't 
have  a  friend  ram  his  ideas  down  my  throat.  I've 
as  much  right  to  put  a  fellow  up  or  blackball  him  in 
the  Dealonian  as  Tony  has.  Seems  to  me  he's  get- 
ting  ." 

"Oh,  shut  up.  You  are  working  yourself  all  up 
over  nothing.  It  isn't  worth  it.  Don't  quarrel  with 
Tony." 

"Seems  to  me  Tony's  picking  the  quarrel  with  me. 
Who  flung  himself  out  of  the  room  just  now?  I  didn't, 
I  guess.  I  tell  you  what,  Jim,  if  Tony  wants  to  keep 
on  good  terms  with  me,  he  can;  but  he's  not  going  to 
make  the  price  of  his  friendship  my  voting  to  suit  him 
about  anything.  I  guess  we  made  Tony  Deering  in  this 
school — you  and  I." 

"Rot!"  exclaimed  Jimmie.  "Tony  made  himself. 
He'd  have  been  the  head  of  the  school  if  we  had  never 
exchanged  a  word  with  him.  We've  been  darn  glad 
to  have  him  in  the  crowd,  that's  the  truth  of  it;  he's 
been  the  center  of  it  ever  since  he's  been  here.  You 
were  keen  enough  about  making  him  president  of  the 
Dealonian,  and  I  guess  you  want  him  for  head  prefect 
next  year." 

"'Course  I  was  keen;  'course  I  do  .  .  .  I'm  all 


196  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

serene.  If  there's  a  quarrel,  it  won't  be  my  fault. 
But  I'm  going  to  blackball  Finch  for  the  good  of  the 
Society,  'cause  I  think  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  let 
him  in,  and  I  hope  you'll  do  the  same." 

''Well,  I  won't." 

"Do  as  you  please,  that's  your  right.  So  long, 
kiddo,  I  guess  I'll  seek  a  more  congenial  clime  for  the 
time  bein'."  And  with  that  Kit  swung  himself  out  of 
the  room. 

Jimmie,  genuinely  distressed  by  this  first  serious 
difference  in  their  congenial  little  circle,  went  over  to 
Mr.  Morris's  room,  and  took  him  into  his  confidence 
on  the  subject.  Morris  was  not  a  little  disturbed 
by  the  situation.  He  admired  Tony's  purpose,  but 
with  Jimmie,  thought  it  somewhat  ill-judged  and  ill- 
timed,  and  deplored  the  possible  cleavage  it  might 
make  in  the  little  knot  of  friends.  But,  characteris- 
tically, he  did  not  see  his  way  to  interfering,  even 
with  advice. 

Unfortunately  Tony  and  Kit  again  encountered  each 
other  that  night  in  Reggie  Carroll's  room.  Tony  was 
cool,  and  Reggie,  ignorant  of  what  had  happened,  made 
matters  worse  by  asking  them  facetiously  what  had 
ruffled  the  sweet  waters  of  their  friendship. 

"Ask  Tony,"  answered  Kit  laconically,  as  he 
thumbed  a  school  year  book  and  tried  to  think  of 
some  way  of  getting  out  of  the  room. 

Tony  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What's  up?"  repeated  Reggie. 

"Nothing  particular,"  Deering  answered,  after  a 
pause.  "We  just  don't  pull  together  in  a  certain 
matter." 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  197 

"Well,  what  do  you  expect,"  exclaimed  Kit  im- 
pulsively, "do  you  expect  me  to  measure  my  opinions 
by  yours?" 

"Rather  not,"  answered  Tony,  with  a  faint  sneer, 
"you'd  find  them  in  thkt  case  a  darn  sight  too  big  for 
you." 

"Softly,  softly,"  protested  Reggie.  But  Tony 
again  was  gone. 

When  he  got  back  to  his  own  room  later  in  the 
evening,  Jimmie  tried  to  talk  the  subject  over  with  him, 
but  Tony,  ruffled  and  irritated,  was  not  inclined  to  do 
so. 

"I've  made  up  my  mind,  Jim,  so  that's  all  there  is 
to  it.  I'm  going  to  put  Finch  up  next  Saturday  night, 
and  in  the  meantime  I'm  going  to  work  hard  to  try 
to  get  the  fellows  to  vote  for  him.  I  hope  you  won't 
blackball  him." 

"No,  I  won't  do  that,  Tony;  but  I  wish  you'd  see 
Kit  and  talk  it  over  with  him  in  a  friendly  way." 

"I'll  talk  it  over  with  Kit,  if  he  wants  to  talk  it  over 
with  me;  but  he  has  got  to  drop  his  swagger  and  bull- 
dozing manner,  if  he  wants  to." 

"  Look  here,  old  man;  Kit's  just  impulsive;  that's  all. 
Suppose  I,  after  I  had  thought  it  over,  made  up  my 
mind  that  it  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  the  Society 
and  blackballed  Finch,  would  you  let  that  make  any 
difference  between  us?  " 

Tony  thought  a  moment.  "No,  old  chap,  of  course 
it  wouldn't.  I'd  be  sorry,  of  course,  because  I  would 
feel  you  were  wrong.  But  it  isn't  being  opposed  that 
makes  me  sore,  it's  ICit's  blustering  blowing  way  of 
doing  it." 


198  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Jimmie  went  that  night  and  sat  on  Tony's  bed  for 
a  long  time  after  Ughts.  They  said  nothing  more  about 
Kit  or  Finch,  but  talked  intimately  of  a  variety  of 
other  things  in  which  they  were  interested,  in  the 
old  close  pleasant  way.  It  was  a  long  happy  quiet 
talk  and  it  did  much  to  strengthen  their  friendship  in 
the  times  of  stress  that  were  coming. 

The  conversations  we  have  recorded  took  place  well 
along  in  the  winter  term  on  a  Monday  night  in  March. 
The  following  Saturday  evening  was  the  date  of  the 
important  meeting  of  the  Dealonian  Society  at  which 
new  members  were  elected. 

Tony  spent  a  zealous  week  campaigning  for  Finch, 
and  found  it  a  disheartening  business.  Most  of  the 
boys — there  were  about  forty  members  of  the  Society 
— protested,  but  after  long  persuasion,  promised  to 
cast  favorable  votes,  though  they  took  pains,  almost 
without  exception,  to  assure  Tony  that  they  were 
doing  it  simply  because  he  asked  them.  Others 
refused  definitely  to  commit  themselves,  and  Tony 
had  to  be  content  with  that.  To  Jimmie's  distress. 
Kit  kept  away  from  Number  Five  study  all  that 
week,  and  refused  to  make  any  advances  toward  set- 
ting things  right  with  Tony.  ''I'll  talk  it  over, 
if  he  comes  to  me,"  he  would  say  to  Jimmie  over  and 
over.  "But  I  am  going  to  blackball  Finch,  and  I 
guess  I  can  persuade  at  least  one  other  fellow  to  do  the 
same,  so  he  won't  get  into  the  Dealonian.  Tony  can 
do  what  he  pleases.  After  it's  all  over,  if  he  wants 
to  make  up,  well  and  good;  I'll  have  no  hard  feelings: 
if  he  don't, — well,  well  and  good,  also." 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  an  interminable  week  to 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  199 

our  three  friends  Saturday  night  came,  and  the  forty 
members  of  the  Dealonian  Society  met  in  solemn  con- 
clave in  the  Library.  Tony  took  the  chair,  looking  a 
trifle  nervous  and  anxious,  and  called  the  meeting  to 
order.  Kit  was  present,  sitting  well  back,  and  assumed 
an  air  of  bland  indifference  to  the  proceedings.  There 
were  four  new  members  to  be  elected  from  the  Fifth 
Form. 

Routine  business  was  transacted  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  at  last  the  president  announced,  "If 
there  is  no  objection,  we  will  proceed  to  the  election 
of  new  members.  As  I  wish  to  place  a  name  in  nomina- 
tion, I  will  ask  Mr.  Wendell  to  take  the  chair." 

Billy  Wendell,  the  head  prefect,  captain  of  the 
football  team,  and  the  last  year's  president  of  the 
Dealonian,  rose  from  his  seat,  and  took  the  chair 
behind  the  big  desk  in  a  very  solemn  way,  very  much 
as  a  president  pro  tern,  walks  up  to  the  platform  of  the 
Senate.  He  settled  himself,  coughed  slightly,  and 
recognized  Tony.  "Mr.  Deering  has  the  floor,"  he 
observed  in  judicial  tones. 

"Mr.  President  and  members  of  the  Dealonian 
Society,  I  desire  to  place  in  nomination  for  membership 
in  this  society  the  name  of  Jacob  Finch  of  the  Fifth 
Form."  As  this  was  expected,  the  boys  showed  Uttle 
surprise.  Jimmie  glanced  back  at  Kit,  and  saw  his 
lips  curl  with  faint  contempt.  Tony  too  glanced 
about  him;  then,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  threw 
back  his  shoulders,  and  addressed  the  Society.  He 
cast  aside  now  the  solemn  traditional  oratorical  form 
that  the  boys  made  an  effort  to  assume,  and  his  clear 
sweet  voice  rang  with  feeling.     "Fellows,"  he  said, 


200  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"I  believe,  as  we  all  do,  that  this  Society  has  the  right 
to  consider  itself  the  most  important  institution  in 
the  school,  and  I  realize  that  I  am  nominating  one 
for  membership  in  it,  who,  according  to  all  standards 
we  have  set  for  ourselves  and  which  have  been  so 
well  maintained  through  many  school  generations, 
seems  not  to  have  a  shadow  of  right  to  election.  We 
want  here  fellows  whose  opinion  counts,  whose  in- 
fluence will  be  strong  and  positive,  who  have  done 
and  are  able  to  do  things  for  the  school,  in  athletics,  in 
scholarship,  and  in  various  other  ways.  I  can't 
pretend  that  I  think  that  Jacob  Finch  will  stand  for 
these  things  or  will  do  these  things.  But  for  once, 
it  seems  to  me,  that  other  considerations  should  weigh 
with  us." 

The  boys  were  startled  by  the  unusual  feeling  in 
Deering's  voice  and  by  the  unconventional  arguments 
he  was  using  to  urge  his  candidate  upon  their  favor, 
and  they  settled  into  attitudes  of  deep  attention. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  year,"  Tony  went  on, 
"a.  new  boy  came  amongst  us  who,  as  we  all  know, 
has  been  treated  as  no  boy  ever  was  who  came  to  the 
school  before.  He  has  been  brutally  hazed,  and 
for  months  his  life  has  been  made  miserable  by  young 
and  old,  and  unfortunately  he  has  had  no  way  of 
defending  himself.  He  has  never  had  a  chance,  he 
hasn't  got  a  square  deal.  I  have  got  to  know  him,  I 
suppose,  better  than  anyone  else,  and  while  I  don't 
claim  or  even  think  that  he  is  an  unusual  fellow,  I 
do  believe  there  is  something  in  him  that  could  be 
made  to  count  for  the  school  if  he  had  a  show;  if  it 
could  really  be  proved  to  him  that  you  fellows  were 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  201 

willing  to  make  him  one  of  yourselves,  give  him  not 
merely  a  fair,  but  a  generous  chance.  I  don't  want  you 
merely  to  admit  him  to  this  Society  because  I  ask  it 
as  a  favor  to  me,  though  I  hope  you  will  do  it  for  that 
reason  if  you  won't  do  it  for  any  other;  but  I  ask  you 
to  vote  for  him  as  an  act  of  generous  kindness  toward 
a  chap  who  hasn't  had  the  chance  that  any  of  us  have 
had,  whose  life  in  this  school  up  to  now  has  been 
downright  hell." 

With  that  Tony  sat  down.  A  ripple  of  conversation 
went  round  the  room.  The  boys  were  quite  won 
by  this  unusual  appeal  to  their  generosity  and  sym- 
pathy. Billy  Wendell  called  them  sharply  to  order. 
''Are  there  any  further  remarks  upon  Finch?" 

Half  a  dozen  fellows  rose  one  after  another,  and 
declared,  with  a  certain  amount  of  feeling  and  a 
certain  lack  of  grace,  that  they  agreed  with  Deering, 
and  that  they  thought  Finch  ought  to  be  elected. 
Jimmie  wanted  to  speak  for  Tony's  sake,  but  he  could 
not  quite  bring  himself  to  do  so.  In  his  heart  he  agreed 
with  Kit  that  Tony's  judgment  on  this  occasion  was 
mistaken,  and  that  were  Finch  elected  it  would  not 
accomplish  for  him  what  Tony  so  generously  hoped. 
There  was  a  pause  after  good-natured  Clayton  had 
uttered  a  few  stuttering  sentimental  remarks.  Then 
Kit  Wilson  rose  up  quickly.  His  face  was  flushed,  he 
seemed  nervous,  but  there  were  lines  of  dogged  de- 
termination about  his  mouth. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  he  said,  ''we  have  all  been  moved 
by  the  eloquence  of  our  popular  president.  I  want 
to  say,  however,  that  I  feel  very  strongly  that  the  con- 
siderations that  should  guide  us  in  this  affair  are  not 


202  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

those  of  sentiment  or  of  personal  friendship.  I  think, 
Mr.  Chairman,  that  the  president  of  this  Society  has 
no  right  to  ask  us  to  vote  for  a  fellow  on  his  nomination 
as  a  personal  favor  to  himself.  The  argument  that 
it  is  up  to  us  to  give  Finch  a  better  show  in  the 
school  than  he's  had,  by  electing  him  to  this  Society  is 
no  doubt  generous,  but  it  is  sentimental.  I  agree  with 
Mr.  Deering  that  we  should  do  everything  in  our  power 
to  make  Finch's  life  a  pleasanter  and  a  happier  one 
than  it  probably  has  been.  I  do  not  think,  however, 
that  to  do  this  it  is  necessary  to  elect  him  to  the 
Dealonian  Society,  the  membership  of  which  is 
supposed  to  be  made  up  of  those  who  really  represent 
the  various  activities  of  the  school.  I  sincerely  trust 
he  will  not  be  elected." 

With  that  he  sat  down,  and  some  one  immediately 
called  for  a  vote.  The  Dealonian  voted  on  membership 
by  roll  call,  the  secretary  reading  the  names  and  the 
boys  responding  Placet  or  Non  Placet,  as  the  case 
might  be.  To  Tony's  surprise  boy  after  boy  voted  in 
the  affirmative.  Tack  Turner,  one  of  ''the  crowd," 
was  the  first  to  blackball,  but  after  him  the  voting 
again  was  favorable.  Wilson's  name  was  the  last 
called.  ''Non  Placet,"  he  said  quietly,  without 
looking  up. 

"The  name  is  rejected,"  said  Wendell,  and  resigned 
the  chair. 

The  meeting  went  on,  several  other  names  were 
proposed  and  accepted.  After  the  adjournment,  Tony, 
bitterly  disappointed  not  in  the  result,  which  he  had 
feared,  but  by  the  means  it  had  been  obtained,  avoided 
speaking  with  his  friends,  and  hurried  out.     In  the 


TONY  PLAYS  GUARDIAN  ANGEL  203 

corridor  he  came  face  to  face  with  Kit.  Their  eyes 
met,  and  Tony's  lip  curled  contemptuously.  "Well," 
he  exclaimed  sarcastically,  ''you  were  successful, 
weren't  you!" 

Kit  stared  back  with  a  dark  scowl  on  his  good- 
looking,  usually  kindly  face.  "I  did  as  I  thought 
right,"  he  answered. 

Tony  smiled  with  a  look  of  insulting  incredulity. 
"Let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  sense  of  duty." 
Then  he  hurried  on  to  his  own  room,  and  fell  to  work 
with  self -deceptive  industry  at  his  books. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   RIFT   IN    FRIENDSHIP 

The  prominent  members  of  a  particular  set  of  boys 
can  scarcely  be  on  bad  terms  with  each  other  without 
the  relations  of  them  all  being  more  or  less  affected, 
and  this  was  certainly  the  case  with  our  friends  at 
Deal.  Tony  had  more  and  more  become  the  real 
leader  of  the  little  circle,  so  that  Kit's  defection  par- 
took of  the  nature  of  a  rebellion. 

Tack  Turner,  who  had  blackballed  Finch  at  Kit's 
request,  had  by  that  act  lined  himself  on  Wilson's 
side.  He  was  a  slow,  rather  dull  boy,  quieter  than  the 
others,  but  generally  liked.  He  had  not  felt  particu- 
larly one  way  or  the  other  with  regard  to  Finch,  and 
had  agreed  with  Kit  chiefly  because  it  happened  to 
be  Kit  that  spoke  to  him  first.  But  having  given 
his  word,  he  was  of  that  tenacious  and  somewhat 
unintelligent  type,  that  will  stick  to  it  whether  subse- 
quent events  show  his  position  to  be  a  reasonable  one 
or  not.  His  semi-indifferent  attitude  was  transformed, 
however,  into  violent  partisanship  for  Kit,  as  Tony 
took  occasion  the  morning  after  the  Dealonian  meeting 
to  express  his  opinion  of  Tack's  blackballing  Finch 
somewhat  caustically. 

''I  confess.  Tack,"  he  said  "that  I  never  gave  you 
the  credit  for  much  independence  of  judgment,  but  I 

204 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  205 

didn't  think  you  were  quite  so  devoid  of  it  as  to  vote 
just  the  way  you  were  told  to." 

Turner  growled  out  a  bitter  retort  to  this  unnec- 
essary remark,  and  the  two  parted  on  bad  terms  for 
the  first  time  in  their  lives. 

Charlie  Gordon,  a  light-hearted,  easy-going, 
generous-minded  lad  sided  naturally  enough  with 
Tony,  and  had  been  quite  impressed  by  Tony's  elo- 
quence the  evening  before.  Teddy  Lansing  had  not 
voted,  and  refused  to  commit  himself.  Poor  Jimmie 
Lawrence  was  torn  in  both  directions.  He  had  been 
willing  enough  to  vote  for  Finch  and  let  Tony  have  his 
way,  because  he  was  deeply  and  genuinely  fond  of  him, 
and  was  accustomed  to  follow  his  lead;  but  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  feel,  despite  Tony's  eloquent 
appeal  at  the  meeting,  that  there  was  any  real  case 
for  Finch  with  respect  to  the  Dealonian,  and  he 
deplored  the  fact  that  Tony  insisted  on  his  plan.  He 
was  fond  of  Kit  also;  they  had  been  chums  since  they 
had  entered  Deal  together  in  the  First  Form  five 
years  before.  His  position  was  really  a  very  hard  one, 
because  he  felt  and  tried  to  be  neutral,  and  neither 
Tony  nor  Kit,  between  whom  the  breach  grew  wider, 
was  satisfied  with  neutrality.  Both  actually,  if  not 
expressly,  were  demanding  partisanship. 

Perhaps  the  most  unfortunate  aspect  of  the  incident 
— and  this  also  Jimmie  had  dimly  foreseen  and  feared 
— was  the  effect  it  had  on  Jacob  Finch.  Forty  boys  can- 
not keep  a  secret,  so  that  it  was  not  long  before  Finch 
heard  a  tolerably  correct  version  of  what  had  taken 
place  at  the  Dealonian  meeting.  He  was  grateful 
to  Deering  for  the  effort  he  had  made  in  his  behalf, 


206  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

but  the  consciousness  that  he  had  been  pubUcly 
discussed  by  a  society  of  representative  boys  and 
formally  rejected  as  a  candidate  for  their  companion- 
ship, added  intensely  to  the  bitterness  of  what  he 
felt  was  his  position. 

Sometimes  when  he  was  alone  and  thought  of  the 
incident,  the  hot  tears  would  well  up  in  his  eyes 
and  blind  him.  Bitter  thoughts  likewise  would  rise 
up  in  his  soul  and  overwhelm  him.  He  sometimes 
felt  he  could  not  stick  it  out  for  the  year.  But  then, 
what  else  could  he  do?  He  could  not  think.  He  was 
absolutely  dependent  upon  Doctor  Forester,  and  he 
was  not  of  the  caliber  to  act  rashly,  go  bravely  out 
and  face  the  hostile  world.  And  the  world  seemed 
hostile  to  him — the  very  elements,  these  biting  winter 
winds  and  prolonged  northeast  storms — seemed  to 
beat  against  him.  Hated  alike  by  masters  and  boys, 
as  he  thought,  he  indeed  was  miserable.  And,  alas! 
save  for  his  ardent  affection  for  Deering,  he  began  to 
hate  bitterly  and  maliciously  in  return. 

Life  had  taught  him  to  be  sly  and  silent,  but  here- 
tofore beyond  a  furtive  manner  and  an  intense  re- 
serve, the  quality  of  slyness  had  not  shown  itself. 
But  now  his  malice  seemed  to  demand  expression, 
impelled  him  to  action,  and  he  began,  first  in  little 
ways,  afterwards  by  more  systematic  plans  to  torment 
his  tormentors.  But  so  secretly,  so  cautiously,  that, 
though  his  sting  was  felt,  his  victim  was  ignorant 
whence  it  had  come. 

The  principal  objects  of  his  hatred  were  Mr.  Royls- 
ton  and  Kit  Wilson,  the  latter  only  after  he  learned  of 
Kit's  breach  with  Tony.    Mr.  Roylston  began  to  be 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  207 

afflicted  with  a  series  of  annoying  and  inexplicable 
incidents;  anonymous  letters  were  slipped  into  his 
mail-box,  threatening  him  with  dire  calamities  unless 
he  speedily  exhibited  a  change  of  heart;  his  books, 
his  papers  were  misplaced,  to  be  found  in  out-of-the- 
way  places;  twice  or  thrice  his  study  was  disordered; 
and  once,  at  night  as  he  was  crossing  the  field,  mud  was 
thrown  at  him  and  his  immaculate  clothes  were  sadly 
bespattered.  But  so  carefully  did  the  culprit  destroy 
all  clues  to  his  identity  that  the  master  had  no  redress. 
For  once  he  was  baffled.  Never,  so  contemptuous  an 
opinion  did  he  hold  of  Finch's  spirit,  did  it  occur  to  him 
even  to  suspect  the  poor  worm  whom  daily  he  ground 
beneath  the  brazen  feet  of  his  sarcasm  in  the  classroom. 

He  took  little  Beverly  into  his  confidence  as  they 
sat  late  one  night  over  a  comfortable  fire  in  the  masters' 
common-room. 

''These  things,"  he  remarked,  ''have  been  going  on 
now  for  a  number  of  weeks,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
my  experience  I  do  not  discover  the  slightest  clue  to 
the  culprit." 

"Of  course,  however,"  was  Beverly's  comment, 
made  partly  to  display  his  omniscience,  partly  to 
flatter  an  older  colleague,  "of  course,  you  have  your 
suspicions?" 

"Of  course,"  responded  Roylston  dryly,  "that  goes 
without  saying.  I  have  suspected  both  Deering  and 
Wilson,  whom  indeed  several  times  before  have  I 
discovered  in  misdemeanors  of  a  similar  character; 
but,  if  you  chance  to  have  been  observing  of  late,  you 
will  have  noticed  and  wondered  that  those  two  charm- 
ing youths  no  longer  consort  together." 


208  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Oh,  boys  of  that  sort,"  said  Beverly  blithely,  to 
hide  his  ignorance  of  the  alleged  coolness,  "boys  of 
that  sort  always  fall  out  after  a  time.  Mischief  is  a 
poor  cement  for  friendship." 

"On  the  contrary  it  has  been  my  observation  that 
it  often  does  cement  it.  But  I  am  the  less  inclined 
to  lay  my  annoyances  to  the  two  boys  I  have  men- 
tioned than  I  would  be  if  they  were  as  thick  as  they 
formerly  were.  Wilson  simply  has  not  the  ingenuity 
or  the  wit  to  do  such  things  for  so  long  a  time  and 
escape  detection;  and  Deering  lacks  the  incentive 
of  Wilson's  impulsive  and  malignant  vindictiveness. 
I  am  inclined  to  feel  that  I  will  discover  the  miscreant 
in  some  other  set.  Alas!  they  are  not  the  only  boys 
not  above  such  things." 

"I  would  keep  an  eye  on  my  suspects,  however," 
remarked  Beverly,  with  an  air  of  conviction  that  he 
was  offering  very  subtle  advice. 

"Oh,  my  eye  is  ever  on  suspects,  my  friend." 

At  that  moment  Morris  happened  to  come  into  the 
common-room,  and  the  conversation  was  dropped. 

Finch,  impishly  elated  by  the  successful  secrecy 
of  his  attentions  to  Mr,  Roylston  and  finding  a  certain 
relief  for  his  spleen  in  his  malicious  tricks,  began  to 
extend  his  operations,  concentrating  on  Wilson.  Kit, 
when  he  discovered  the  tricks  that  had  been  played 
upon  him,  would  storm  about  noisily,  berating  pos- 
sible miscreants  right  and  left,  but  for  some  time 
with  as  little  effect  as  had  attended  Mr.  Roylston's 
quieter  efforts.  Success,  however,  rarely  waits  upon 
the  criminal  faithfully.  He  grows  inevitably  care- 
less and  falls  at  last  into   the  most  obvious   trap 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  209 

that  is  set  for  him.  Poor  Jake  proved  no  excep- 
tion. 

Twice  in  a  week  Kit  had  come  in  about  four  o'clock 
from  his  run  across  country  with  the  hare  and  hounds, 
an  unpopular  game  that  he  was  seeking  to  boom,  to 
find  his  room  "rough-housed."  It  was  not  the  general 
disorder  familiarly  known  by  that  term,  but  a  more 
systematic  confusion,  if  we  may  so  speak;  a  more 
malicious  effort  to  injure  his  property.  His  prepared 
work  for  the  next  day's  recitations  would  be  smeared 
with  ink  so  that  it  would  have  to  be  completely  re- 
written; his  desk  drawers  would  be  turned  topsy- 
turvy; his  clothes  hidden  away  in  unexpected  nooks 
and  corners.  This  had  happened  several  times,  and 
the  character  of  the  destruction  was  more  wanton 
than  is  often  the  case  when  boys  indulge  in  such  mis- 
guided forms  of  practical  joking.  He  determined  to 
watch  carefully  for  weeks,  if  necessary,  and  catch 
the  culprit  if  he  should  attempt  to  repeat  his  vandal- 
ism. 

As  usual,  one  afternoon  after  two  o'clock  call-over, 
he  went  off  ostensibly  for  his  run  in  running  drawers 
and  shirt,  his  white  legs  and  arms  gleaming  in  the 
winter  sunshine,  as  he  dashed  down  the  hill  with  his 
hounds.  But  this  time  he  deserted  them  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  skirted  the  path  along  the  Rocks  in 
the  direction  of  Whetstone  and  returned  to  the  school 
within  half-an-hour  by  way  of  the  steep-sloping  south 
field,  which  faces  Monday  Port  and  which  the  boys 
seldom  played  upon.  Unobserved,  for  his  schoolmates 
were  mostly  far  afield,  he  reached  Standerland,  tiptoed 
through  the  corridors  to  his  room,  and  once  inside 


210  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

hid  himself  carefully  behind  the  curtains  that  screened 
the  door  into  his  bedroom. 

He  waited  impatiently  a  long  dull  half-hour,  and 
several  times  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up;  but  for 
all  his  impulsiveness,  Kit  was  doggedly  persistent, 
and  was  quite  capable  of  waiting  there  for  an  hour 
or  more  several  times  a  week.  And  at  last,  to  his  joy, 
he  heard  a  soft  step  in  the  corridor.  Some  one  had 
paused  before  his  door,  and  was  evidently  listening 
for  sounds  within.  Then  there  was  a  gentle  tap. 
Kit  was  still  as  a  mouse.  Another  tap,  another  wait, 
then  the  door  opened  softly,  and  some  one  slipped  in. 
Kit  scarcely  breathed.  He  could  not  see  who  it  was, 
but  he  heard  the  intruder  close  the  door  gently  behind 
hipa  and  stand  for  a  moment,  as  Kit  thought,  looking 
furtively  around  him.  He  even  came  to  the  door  of 
the  bedroom,  brushing  the  curtains  back  of  which  Kit 
was  concealed  as  he  passed.  Then,  satisfied  at  last  that 
he  was  safe  and  alone,  he  went  quickly  to  Kit's  desk, 
opened  the  drawers  and  thrust  malicious  disturbing 
hands  amongst  their  contents.  Then  he  drew  forth 
a  bundle  of  papers.  Kit  heard  him  rattle  the  ink-well, 
and  his  quick  ears  caught  the  sound  of  the  patter  of 
the  ink  drops  as  they  fell  on  the  papers.  Instantly  he 
leaped  forward,  with  one  bound  was  across  the  room, 
and  had  grabbed  the  vandal  by  the  collar.  It  was 
Jacob  Finch. 

For  a  moment,  as  Kit  recognized  the  intruder,  he 
was  speechless  with  surprise.  Finch  stood  as  if  he  were 
paralyzed,  in  the  position  in  which  Kit  had  grabbed 
him.  Only  the  ink-well  had  fallen  from  his  fingers, 
and  the  black  fluid  was  trickling  from  the  desk  onto 


HE   OPENED   THE   DKAWERS   AND   THRUST  MALICIOUS   DISTURBING 
HANDS    AMONG   THE    CONTENTS 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  211 

the  floor.  His  face  was  ashy,  his  eyes  glared  Uke  those 
of  a  rat  in  a  corner.  In  a  second  Kit  recovered 
himself. 

"You  little  hound,"  he  hissed,  his  anger  blazing 
forth.  "So  it's  you  that's  been  rough-housing  my 
room!" 

Finch  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"Speak  up,  you  cur.  Bah!  there's  no  need.  I've 
got  you  in  the  act.  You're  caught  red-handed,  you 
sneak!" 

He  advanced  threateningly,  determined  to  ad- 
minister instantly  the  sound  thrashing  he  felt  was. too 
good  for  the  palsied  little  wretch  before  him.  As  he 
grasped  Finch's  collar  the  second  time,  the  boy  let 
out  a  weird  shrill  wail  like  the  cry  of  an  animal. 

"Pah!"  cried  Wilson,  "I  can't  stand  the  touch  of 
you.  Get  out  of  my  sight."  He  gave  Finch  a  vicious 
kick  that  sent  him  reeling  toward  the  door. 

"If  ever  you  come  near  my  room  again,"  shouted 
Kit,  "I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  miserable  body. 
You  sneak!    You  cur!    Get  out!" 

Poor  Finch  did  not  debate  upon  the  manner  of  his 
going.  With  one  movement,  he  had  wrenched  open 
the  door  and  fled,  not  escaping,  however,  a  parting 
shot  from  Wilson's  boot. 

Kit  turned  wrathfuUy  to  survey  his  damaged  desk 
and  papers,  and  began  to  clear  the  litter  up. 

"The  sneak!"  he  muttered.  "And  that's  the 
specimen  that  Tony  Deering  thought  we  ought  to 
take  into  the  Dealonian,  that's  the  dirty  little  cur  for 
whom  he's  thrown  me  over!" 

Unfortunately,  as  Finch  sped  down  the  corridor 


212  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

for  his  own  room,  he  ran  squarely  into  Tony  who  was 
just  coming  out  of  Number  Five  study. 

'Well,  what  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  you?" 
exclaimed  Deering,  turning  to  look  at  the  bewildered 
figure.  But  Finch  did  not  reply.  He  dashed  into  his 
own  room,  and  slammed  and  locked  the  door.  Tony 
whistled  softly,  and  went  on.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
the  shower,  and  had  nothing  on  but  his  wrapper. 
His  way  led  past  Number  Twelve  study  where  Kit 
roomed,  and  at  its  door,  as  he  turned  a  corner  of  the 
corridor,  he  saw  Wilson  thrusting  armfuls  of  paper 
into  the  waste  basket.  Tony  dropped  his  eyes  and 
did  not  speak.  Wilson  looked  up  suddenly  and  recog- 
nized him,  and  impulsively  exclaimed :  *'  I  say,  Deering, 
just  look  here  and  see  what  a  mess  your  particular  pet 
has  made  for  me." 

Tony  stopped,  surprised,  and  annoyed  by  Wilson's 
angry  tone.  He  glanced  indifferently  at  the  disordered 
room,  the  desk  stained  by  the  great  blot  of  ink,  the 
crumbled  papers.  "Well,"  he  remarked,  "I  don't 
see  how  this  concerns  me  or  my  friends." 

''You  don't,  eh?"  exclaimed  Kit.  "Well,  I  blamed 
well  do.  That's  the  sort  of  thing  I've  had  to  put 
up  with  for  the  last  three  weeks.  Your  friend  Finch 
has  been  in  here,  kindly  putting  my  room  on  the 
bum." 

" Finch ! "  cried  Tony.  "I  don't  be — I  reckon  you've 
made  a  mistake." 

"I  reckon  I  haven't.  I  laid  for  him,  if  you  want  to 
know;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  just  now  of  kicking  him 
out.  If  I  catch  him  in  here  again,  I'll  break  every  bone 
in  his  body.    Since  you  are  so  deeply  interested  in  his 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  213 

welfare,  you'll  be  doing  him  a  kindness  if  you  tell  him 
that  for  me." 

Deering's  lips  curled  contemptuously.  "I  don't 
know  exactly  what  you  are  driving  at,  Wilson,  and 
I  don't  think  I  particularly  care." 

Kit  snorted,  and  went  on  with  the  task  of  setting 
his  things  to  right.  Tony  majestically  proceeded 
toward  the  shower.  After  he  had  stood  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  under  cold  water  he  felt  considerably  cooler, 
and  when  he  had  dressed,  he  stopped  at  Finch's  room 
on  his  way  to  the  Rectory  for  tea.  Finch  at  first 
refused  to  respond  to  his  knock. 

"Come,  come,  open  up,  old  man.  I  want  to  see  you 
particularly." 

It  was  a  bedraggled  depressed-looking  Finch  that 
finally  opened  his  door.  Deering  pushed  it  back  and 
entered.  "Now,  what's  the  trouble?"  he  asked.  "I 
know  something's  up,  because  Wilson  just  now  said 
he  had — had  put  you  out  of  his  room.  What  were  you 
there  for?" 

"He  did  put  me  out,"  gasped  Finch.  He  hesitated, 
then  lied  desperately.  "I  wanted  to  borrow  some  paper. 
I  thought  of  asking  you,  but  Wilson  had  the  kind  I 
wanted.  He  wasn't  in,  or  at  least  I  thought  he  wasn't 
in,  so  I  went  to  his  desk,  and  began  to  pull  some 
sheets  off  his  pad,  and  he  jumped  on  me  from  behind 
a  curtain  or  out  of  his  bedroom,  from  somewhere, 
I  dunno  where." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"Nothing  much.  He  called  me  a  sneak,  and  kicked 
me  out." 

"How  did  the  ink  get  spilled?" 


214  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

''I  knocked  it  over  when  he  jumped  at  me.  Some- 
body's been  rough-housing  his  room,  I  guess,  and  he 
thought  it  was  me." 

''Well,  it  wasn't  you,  Jake,  was  it?"  asked  Tony, 
fixing  him  with  a  keen  hurt  glance. 

''No,  Deering,  'pon  my  honor,  it  wasn't." 

"Had  you  ever  been  to  his  room  before?" 

"Never  alone."  His  eyes  shifted  back  to  meet 
Tony's  wondering  glance.  "Don't  you  believe  me, 
Deering?"    There  was  a  wail  of  despair  in  his  voice. 

"Yes,  Jake,  yes;  of  course,  I  believe  you.  I  know 
you  wouldn't  lie  to  me.  Cheer  up,  I'll  try  to  get 
Wilson  to  listen  to  reason." 

"Oh,  don't — !"  Jake  stopped,  aghast  at  his  possible 
mistake.  "I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything  for  me, 
Deering,  you've  done  enough.  I'm  just  always  getting 
you  in  trouble." 

"That's  all  right,  Jake;  helping  a  friend  out  isn't 
trouble." 

And  with  that  Tony  went  on.  He  stopped  again  at 
Wilson's  room.  The  door  was  still  open,  and  Kit  was 
still  fussing  about  his  desk.  He  looked  up  at  the  knock, 
and  scowled  a  little  as  he  bade  his  visitor  come  in, 

Tony  came  in  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
"Look  here.  Kit,"  he  said,  trying  hard  to  keep  control 
of  his  voice.  "I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Finch. 
I  think  you  have  done  him  a  wrong.  He  came  in  here 
to  borrow  some  paper " 

"Oh,  is  that  the  song  and  dance  he  gives  you?  Well, 
I  know  what  he  came  in  for.  If  you  want  to  know, 
I  kept  still  behind  those  curtains  for  a  couple  of 
minutes  while  he  started  his  dirty  work,  and  I  caught 


A  RIFT  IN  FRIENDSHIP  215 

him  right  in  the  act,  with  that  ink-well  in  his  greasy- 
fingers  smearing  my  exercises  with  it.  He  has  been 
rough-housing  this  room  for  two  or  three  weeks." 

"Well,  he  says  he  hasn't,  and  I  don't  think  he's 
a  liar.    Will  you  give  him  a  chance  to  explain?" 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  mil.  I  know  he's  a  liar.  I 
know  it,  man.  Don't  talk  to  me  any  such  blamed 
rot  about  his  coming  in  here  to  borrow  paper;  he's 
a  sneak  and  a  toad,  and  if  he  comes  near  me  again 
I'll  hck  the  Ufe  out  of  him." 

"Go  ahead,  bully  a  chap  that  can't  defend  himself." 

"Look  here,  Tony.  I  hate  to  quarrel  with  you, 
but  it's  got  to  come.  I  thought  you  were  wrong 
about  that  kid  from  the  first;  he  ain't  fit  for  help, 
and  's  for  the  Dealonian, — well,  save  the  mark!  But 
it's  come  to  this — you  and  I  can't  be  friends,  if  you  are 
going  to  take  that  httle  sneak's  part  against  me. 
We'll  just  break  for  good  and  all.  You  can't  be  a 
friend  of  mine,  and  take  the  attitude  toward  him 
that  you've  been  taking.  I  might  have  got  over  the 
other  business;  but  I  can't  get  over  to-day's  dirty  work, 
and  for  you  to  come  in  here,  and  tell  me  the  pack  of 
lies  he's  made  up,  is  too  much.  Let's  cut  it  out,  and 
have  done  with  each  other." 

"Oh,  all  right;  if  that's  your  point  of  view,  I'm 
willing.  You're  unreasonable  and  hot-headed.  Kit. 
So  long,  old  man,  I'm  sorry  you  can't  be  just." 

"So  long,"  said  Wilson,  as  Tony  stalked  out. 

For  a  moment  or  so  Kit  fumed  about,  pulling  things 
out  of  their  places  and  thrusting  them  viciously  back. 
Suddenly  he  put  his  head  down  on  the  table,  and 
burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

LEAVE-TAKING 

The  short  Easter  vacation,  during  which  Tony  had 
visited  Jimmie,  had  come  and  gone,  and  our  friends 
were  settled  down  again  into  the  routine  of  the  spring 
term.  For  the  time  being,  much  to  the  discomfort 
of  all  concerned,  the  old  crowd  was  broken  up.  Tony 
and  Kit  did  not  even  speak  to  each  other,  so  that 
Jimmie  had  a  hard  time  keeping  on  friendly  terms 
with  them  both. 

The  winter  had  long  since  broken  completely.  Long 
lazy  days  were  come  again  when  the  sea  glistened 
like  glass  under  shining  skies  and  the  mounting  sun 
was  rapidly  warming  the  earth  into  green  good  humor. 
The  fields  were  dotted  in  the  afternoons  with  a  dozen 
developing  baseball  teams  composed  of  white  clad, 
red-capped  boys.  Boats,  too,  heavily  manned  by 
members  of  the  rival  school  clubs,  sped  out  of  the 
little  harbor  tucked  under  Strathsey  Neck,  and,  plied 
by  their  happy  crews,  went  scudding  on  half-holidays 
up  the  River  or  boldly  out  past  Deigr  Light  into 
the  open  ocean.  It  was  a  happy  term  at  Deal:  boys 
and  masters  expanded  in  the  genial  sunshine,  and 
for  the  most  part  the  stress  of  the  long  winter 
term  problems   and    discipline   was   wholly  relaxed. 

216 


LEAVE-TAKING  217 

Lawrence  and  Deering  threw  themselves  into  baseball, 
worked  fairly  faithfully  at  their  books,  and  thus  kept 
themselves  happy  and  contented.  Kit  Wilson  was 
coaching  one  of  the  younger  teams  on  the  north  field, 
so  that  they  did  not  come  in  contact  with  him  very 
frequently.  Jimmie  would  go  to  his  rooms  often  in 
the  evening,  but  he  came  no  more  to  Number  Five 
study. 

Kit  had  said  nothing  about  his  affair  with  Finch; 
but,  as  he  expected,  his  rooms  were  disturbed  no  more. 
Finch,  terrified  by  discovery  and  the  fear  of  exposure, 
for  a  long  time  abandoned  his  vandalism  entirely. 
His  conscience  was  troubled  by  the  fact  that  he  had 
lied  to  Tony,  but  less  perhaps  than  he  would  have  been 
disturbed  if  Tony  knew  the  truth.  There  was  on 
both  his  and  Tony's  part  a  certain  sense  of  strain 
in  their  friendly  relations,  which  Tony,  however, 
tried  to  ignore.  He  believed  of  course  that  Finch  had 
told  him  the  truth  about  the  episode  in  Wilson's 
room  and  that  Wilson  had  simply  been  mistaken; 
but  after  Kit's  open  break  with  him,  he  saw  no  way 
to  set  things  right. 

This  troubled  him  a  great  deal  and  cast  a  gloom  over 
much  of  that  bright  spring  term  that  otherwise  might 
have  been  so  happy.  Each  boy  felt  the  loss  of  the 
other's  friendship  keenly,  but  both  were  impulsive, 
both  felt  themselves  right,  both  had  been  stung  to 
the  quick  by  the  other's  attitude.  Time,  as  often 
happens,  widened  the  breach. 

One  day  in  Fifth  English  they  were  reading  As  You 
Like  It,  and  it  fell  to  Kit  to  read  the  lines  of  Amiens* 
song  in  the  second  act : 


218  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Heigh-ho!  sing  heigh-ho!  unto  the  green  holly: 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  love  merely  ioWy. 

"Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot: 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp. 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remembered  not." 

As  he  got  toward  the  end  of  the  lines,  his  voice 
almost  broke.  Stenton,  realizing  with  quick  sympathy 
that  the  song  had  taken  on  for  him  some  keen  personiil 
meaning,  passed  on  the  reading  immediately  to  another 
boy.  Tony  sat  in  his  seat  flushed  and  uncomfort- 
able; for  him  also  the  verse  had  intense  meaning. 
He  longed  to  look  up  and  catch  Kit's  eye,  and  then 
join  him  after  class  and  say  boldly  how  foolish  he 
felt  their  coolness  was.  But  he  did  not  do  so.  He 
felt  he  never  could  do  so.  Kit  had  been  too  unfair, 
too  bitter — the  advance  must  come  from  him. 

Suddenly  one  day,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  intense 
life  and  activity  of  school  so  absorbing  to  our  boys, 
there  came  a  word  to  Tony  that  was  rudely  and  with- 
out warning  to  take  him  out  of  it.  The  message  came 
in  the  form  of  a  letter  from  his  grandfather  bidding 
him  come  home  at  once. 

"It  will  be  bad  news  to  you,  my  dear  boy,"  he  wrote,  "but  your 
unfortunate  father's  business  venture  has  been  an  absolute  failure; 
he  has  been  very  ill  and  is  only  just  now  on  the  road  to  re- 
covery, and  your  poor  mother  has  fallen  a  victim  at  last  to  the 
worry  and  strain.  She  wants  you,  and  the  doctor  and  I  think  it 
best  for  you  to  come.  So  you  must  do  so  at  once,  as  I  am  writing 
to  the  Head  Master.    I  don't  know,  Anthony,  whether  we  shall  be 


LEAVE-TAKING  219 

able  or  not  to  send  you  back  next  year.  We  poor  people  of  the 
south,  when  Fortune  turns  against  us,  are  pretty  well  down  and 
out.  You  have  made  a  good  record  at  school,  and  I  do  not  doubt 
but  that  Doctor  Forester  will  promote  you  to  the  Sixth  Form  next 
year,  should  we  be  able  to  send  you  back,  even  if  you  do  lose  these 
two  months.  But  you  must  come  now,  and  at  once.  Telegraph 
me  the  day  and  hour  and  I  will  have  Sambo  meet  you  at  the 
Junction. 

"Your  affectionate  grandfather, 

"Basil  Deering." 

Poor  Tony  read  this  letter  over  and  over  before  he 
could  clearly  take  it  in.  He  knew  something  of  old 
of  his  reckless  father's  terrible  propensity  to  indulge 
in  wild-cat  speculation,  of  the  disaster  and  trouble  it 
had  brought  upon  the  family  at  Low  Deering  before. 
And  now  too  his  mother  was  ill !  Of  course,  of  course, 
he  must  go  home.  He  fumbled  in  his  drawer  and 
found  a  time-table.  Yes,  he  could  leave  that  night. 
And  yet — he  paused,  with  the  letter  in  his  hand — it 
was  like  a  sentence  of  banishment:  to  leave  school 
now  in  the  middle  of  the  best  term  of  the  year,  and 
with  so  many  things  in  which  he  was  interested  at 
loose  ends!  He  could  not  believe  it  really  meant 
that;  it  could  not  be  true.  And  perhaps  never  to 
return!  He  looked  again  at  his  letter,  and  the  old 
general's  words  made  him  sick  at  heart.  Never  again 
to  race  up  and  down  that  hillside,  to  look  out  upon  that 
splendid  sea;  never  again  to  swagger  about  the  campus 
with  his  chums  in  the  old  glad,  happy,  self-important 
way!  No,  no,  he  could  not  bear  that  it  should  mean 
that!  The  hot  tears  welled  in  his  eyes, — but  he 
brushed  them  away.  Of  course,  his  mother  needed 
him.     He  had  gone  through  before  those  agonizing 


220  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

family  crises,  had  seen  his  tender  patient  mother 
struggle  bravely  against  his  father's  bad  moods  and 
dark  despair.  He  knew  that  indeed  she  must  have 
collapsed  when  his  grandfather  sent  for  him  and  she 
permitted  it. 

He  ran  over  to  the  Rectory  and  found  the  Doctor 
in  his  study.  He  too  had  just  been  reading  a  letter 
from  General  Deering. 

He  clasped  Tony's  hand  in  his  strong  affectionate 
grip.  ''I  am  sorry  for  you,  my  boy.  .  .  .  Yes,  I 
have  just  been  reading  a  letter  from  your  grandfather. 
There  is  no  choice  but  for  you  to  go  at  once." 

''I  can  leave  on  the  ten  o'clock  from  Monday  Port, 
to-night,  sir,"  said  Tony,  ''and  catch  the  midnight 
express  at  Coventry,  which  will  get  me  home  the 
next  evening." 

"Doubtless  that  is  the  best  plan,"  the  Doctor 
agreed.  "I  don't  think,  from  what  the  General  tells 
me,  that  you  need  worry  about  your  mother's 
immediate  condition.  But  undoubtedly  you  are 
needed.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  lose  these 
two  months,  but  you  can  keep  up  your  work  at  home 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  make  the 
Sixth  comfortably  in  September." 

''I  think  I  could  do  that,  sir,"  replied  Tony,  "but 
my  grandfather  says  there  is  some  doubt  about — about 
their  being  able  to  send  me  back  next  year." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  writes  that  to  me;  but  you  are  to 
come,  nevertheless.  We  will  arrange  that.  I  hope 
the  financial  difficulties  will  straighten  out  satis- 
factorily, but  if  worst  comes  to  worst  and  they  should 
not,  why  there  are  any  number  of  ways  that  we  can 


LEAVE-TAKING  221 

provide  for  you.  There  is  always  a  scholarship  fund 
rusting  in  the  bank, — ripening,  I  had  better  say,  for 
just  some  such  occasion.  I  fancy,  even,  that  the 
school  would  be  willing  to  trust  you  for  your  tuition. 
But  one  thing  is  quite  settled :  you  are  to  return.  And 
I  will  make  that  clear  to  Basil — to  your  grandfather." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  you've  been  mighty  good  to  me." 

"You  have  been  mighty  good  to  us — mighty  good 
for  us,  I  may  say, — my  boy.  .  .  .  Good-bye  now, 
for  the  present.  .  .  .  And  God  bless  you." 

In  a  moment  or  so  Tony  was  gone.  He  found 
Jimmie,  Charlie  Gordon,  Teddy  Lansing,  and  told 
them  the  news.  And  then,  after  a  few  hasty  farewells, 
went  to  his  rooms  with  Jimmie  to  pack.  It  was  then 
late  in  the  afternoon.  The  packing  was  a  sad  business, 
for  he  felt  he  must  take  everything.  He  would  be 
away  five  months;  perhaps,  despite  the  Doctor's  kind 
prophecy,  for  good.  As  this  possibility  occurred  to 
him,  he  would  stand  now  and  then  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  with  a  coat  or  hat  or  what  not  in  his  hands, 
and  feel  it  was  simply  impossible  to  go  on.  Tears 
would  start  in  his  eyes  and  trickle  down  his  cheeks. 
He  had  always  liked  the  school,  even  in  his  bad  moods 
he  had  been  loyal;  but  he  had  not  known,  he  had  not 
realized,  as  few  boys  do  at  the  time,  how  the  school 
had  become  a  part  of  his  very  life,  how  intensely 
his  affections  were  centered  there.  And  then — 
Mr.  Morris;  the  fellows,  Jimmie,  Teddy,  Charlie,  Kit — 
it  would  be  hard  to  leave  without  saying  good-bye 
to  Kit — ,  Reggie! 

He  turned  to  Jimmie  who  had  come  in  at  the 
moment  with  his  arms  full  of  Tony's  belongings  that 


222  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

he  had  collected  from  various  parts  of  the  school, 
locker  rooms  and  the  like.  ''Excuse  me  for  a  little 
while,  Jimmie  old  boy;  I've  got  to  run  over  and  see 
Reggie.  I  haven't  told  him  yet."  Tony  had  a  pang 
of  regret  that  he  had  seen  so  little  of  Reggie  of  late, 
"I'll  be  back  before  long." 

"All  right,"  said  Jimmie  dolefully.  "I'll  go  on 
with  the  packing,  if  you  don't  mind.  Don't  be 
long." 

"I  won't,"  said  Tony. 

He  found  Carroll  fortunately  in  his  own  room  in 
the  Old  School.  For  once  Reginald  was  studying, 
and  Tony  could  scarcely  remember  when  he  had 
seen  him  so  engaged.  But  the  Sixth  Former  closed 
his  Horace  with  relief  as  he  recognized  his  visitor 
and  kicked  out  a  chair  for  him  to  sit  down.  "Well, 
I  am  certainly  glad  you  have  come.  Heaven  knows 
how  long  I  would  have  kept  at  that  futile  exercise, 
if  it  had  not  been  pleasantly  interrupted.  But  what's 
up,  my  boy,  you  look  as  if  you  had  seen  a  ghost?" 

Tony  sat  down  on  the  chair  that  Carroll  had  pushed 
out.  "I  have,  Reggie,"  he  said,  "I  have  just  got  a 
letter  from  home;  worse  luck.  My  mother's  ill,  and 
I  have  to  start  south  to-night." 

"Jove,  that  is  hard  luck!  When  shall  you  get  back, 
do  you  suppose?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  my  mother  is  danger- 
ously ill,  but  she  wants  me.  There's  been  a  mess 
about  money  too.  The  old  governor  has  written,  and 
says  I  may  not  get  back  at  all — not  this  term  any 
way." 

"Not  this  term!"  Reggie  jumped  up  quickly,  all 


LEAVE-TAKING  223 

the  habitual  languor  of  his  attitude  and  movements 
gone,  and  strode  over  to  the  window. 

''No,  I'm  afraid  not,  Reggie." 

"Why — why — I'll  be  gone  next  term,   boy." 

"I  know,  old  man." 

For  a  moment  Carroll  turned  his  back  to  Tony 
and  looked  out  of  the  window  into  the  deepening 
twilight,  and  was  silent.  There  was  a  lump  in  his 
throat  that  kept  him  from  speaking. 

''I've  only  a  few  minutes,  Reggie,  old  boy,"  said 
Tony,  at  last.  "I  am  leaving  in  an  hour  and  I  am 
only  half  packed.     I've  got  to  say  good-bye." 

Carroll  turned  at  this:  a  pathetic  smile  was  on  his 
lips.  "It  has  come  so  suddenly,  boy  .  .  .  it's  kind 
of  taken  the  wind  out  of  my  sails."  He  came  over 
then  and  took  Tony's  hand  in  his.  "Tonio,  .  .  . 
I  can't  say  good-bye.  .  .  .  You'll  write  to  me  .  .  . 
you  will  come  back  surely.  .  .  .  I'll  be  at  Kingsbridge 
and  often  back  at  school." 

"I  hope  so,  Reggie." 

"You  don't  know,  boy,"  Reggie  went  on,  still 
holding  Tony's  hand,  "I  can't  tell  you  what  your 
being  here  has  meant  for  me — you  and  Bill.  We 
haven't  seen  each  other  much  this  year,  and  I  reckon 
I've  often  seemed  to  you  a  poor  sort  of  friend  .  .  .  but, 
to  put  it  poetically,  old  chap,  .  .  .  the  light  o'  my 
heart  goes  out  with  you." 

Tony  gripped  the  hand  in  his  tightly  at  this.  There 
was  a  lump  in  his  throat  too. 

"Good-bye,  Reggie.  ...  I  will  write,  and  you  be 
sure  to  write  to  me.  Tell  me  all  that's  going  on.  .  .  . 
Have  an  eye  on  Finch,  will  you?    Poor  duffer!" 


224  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Poor  duffer,  indeed!"  said  Carroll,  and  then 
added,  ''Poor  me!"  Their  hands  clasped  tightly,  and 
then  Tony  was  gone. 

Reggie  stood  for  a  long  time  just  as  Tony  had  left 
him.  "One  by  one  the  lamps  go  out,"  he  murmured, 
quoting  a  line  from  one  of  his  own  verses.  He  sighed. 
"So  runs,  so  runs  the  world  away.  .  .  ."  There  was 
a  queer  sharp  pain  at  his  heart.  He  sat  down  at 
last  and  opened  his  Horace  again,  and  began  to  read, 
but  the  words  conveyed  no  sense  to  his  mind.  He 
threw  his  arms  out  once,  and  whispered  softly,  patheti- 
cally, "Oh,  Tony,  Tony.  .  .  .  God  bless  you,  boy; 
God  bless  you ! " 

Back  in  Number  Five  Jimmie  and  Tony  were 
absorbed  in  the  last  stages  of  the  packing.  Morris, 
to  whom  Tony  had  explained  the  occasion  of  his 
going,  had  come  in  and  was  helping  them.  And  his 
presence  went  a  great  way  to  cheer  them  up,  for 
Morris  refused  for  an  instant,  even  in  his  own  mind, 
to  consider  the  possibility  of  Deering  not  coming  back. 
He  eased  off  their  good-byes,  and  sent  Lawrence  over 
to  cheer  up  Carroll,  whom  he  knew  would  feel  it  more 
than  the  rest,  for  it  was  good-bye  to  Tony  for  him 
as  he  was  in  the  Sixth  and  would  be  at  Kingsbridge 
next  year  when  Tony  returned. 

Deering  said  good-bye  to  Finch,  quickly,  quietly, 
he  had  time  for  little  explanation.  Finch  said  nothing, 
but  died  of  despair  within. 

On  the  way  down  the  corridor  Tony  passed  Kit, 
a  generous  word  was  on  his  lips,  their  eyes  met  for 
a  second,  but  Kit  looked  quickly  away,  and  Tony 
passed   on.      The   opportunity   for   a   reconciliation 


LEAVE-TAKING  225 

was  gone.  Morris  drove  in  to  Monday  Port  with  the 
boy  and  saw  him  off  on  the  way-train  for  Coventry. 
With  persistent  tact,  he  continued  to  treat  the  parting 
as  only  a  temporary  one,  and  refused  himself  the 
melancholy  pleasure  of  saying  much  to  his  young 
friend  that  was  in  his  heart  and  that  Tony  might  have 
been  glad  to  hear.  It  was  better  so,  thought  Morris. 
The  kind  things  could  be  written,  if  the  need  came. 

There  was  a  quick,  short,  strong  grip  of  their  hands 
at  last,  and  Tony  cUmbed  into  the  train.  He  stowed 
his  things  in  the  empty  car,  and  then  went  and  stood 
on  the  rear  platform  and  waved  his  hand  to  Morris 
as  the  train  pulled  out  of  the  little  station,  and  strained 
his  eyes  to  see  the  last  of  the  master's  patient,  kindly 
friendly  figure  until  darkness  blotted  out  the  vision. 
The  train  was  rushing  through  the  outskirts  of  the 
little  town.  Beyond  the  limits  it  ascended  a  steep 
grade  and  ran  along  a  high  level  plateau  for  a  way, 
and  thence  Tony  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lights  of  the 
school  shining  brightly  from  the  far-away  hill,  wafting 
him,  it  seemed,  a  friendly  good-bye  across  the  dark. 
Suddenly  the  train  plunged  into  a  narrow  cut  in  a 
hill  and  Deering  could  see  the  lights  of  Deal  no  more. 

At  Coventry  he  had  a  dreary  wait  for  half-an-hour 
until  the  midnight  express  for  the  south  lumbered 
in  and  stopped  on  signal.  As  soon  as  he  had  boarded 
the  through  train,  he  got  into  his  berth,  for  he  was  worn 
out  with  the  wearisome  journey  from  Monday  Port 
and  with  the  excitement  of  the  last  seven  hours.  But 
he  could  not  sleep  for  a  long  time.  When  at  last  he 
did  fall  into  a  fitful  slumber,  constantly  disturbed 
by  the  jolts  and  jars  of  the  rushing  train,  it  was  to 


226  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

dream  bad  dreams.  Once  it  seemed  to  him,  in  the 
dazed  state  between  sleeping  and  waking,  that  he 
was  lying  in  his  little  bed  at  Low  Deering,  that  he 
was  still  a  little  boy  of  fourteen,  and  that  the  last 
four  years  at  Deal  had  been  only  a  dream.  .  .  . 

At  Low  Deering  Tony  found  things  almost  as  bad 
as  he  had  feared.  His  father,  a  genial,  charming, 
irresponsible  creature — the  unaccountable  wild  olive 
that  grows  now  and  then  on  the  stock  of  the  good  olive 
tree — had  rather  more  deeply  than  usual — for  the  same 
sort  of  thing  had  happened  before — plunged  his  family 
into  distress.  He  had  ventured  all  his  available 
capital  and  more  that  he  had  borrowed,  on  the  security 
of  his  extravagant  hopes  and  good  intentions,  from 
his  wife;  staked  it  in  a  case  where  he  stood  to  win 
twenty-fold  or  quite  overwhelmingly  lose;  and,  as 
not  unfrequently  happens,  had  lost.  Then  had  fol- 
lowed, as  Tony  could  remember  the  horror  of  it  all 
at  an  earlier  period  of  his  boyhood,  a  trying  dis- 
appearance and  a  return  in  a  mood  of  black  melan- 
choly and  idle  remorse. 

But  the  worst  was  over  by  the  time  he  reached 
home.  Victor  Deering,  thanks  to  his  father's  stern 
but  tender  patience  and  his  wife's  unfailing  much- 
tried  devotion,  was  slowly  recovering  his  normal 
health,  his  irrepressible  spirits,  his  habitual  weaving 
of  futile  plans  and  nursing  of  quixotic  hopes.  But  the 
process  this  time  had  cost  his  family  a  good  deal  more 
than  its  meager  income  could  pay  for  and  had  sacrificed 
Mrs.  Deering's  health  to  worry  and  distress.  For 
weeks  she  had  been  lying  in  a  state  of  nervous  ex- 
haustion, from  which  the  physician  at  last  thought 


LEAVE-TAKING  227 

she  might  be  ralHed  if  her  wish  were  granted  and  Tony, 
her  only  child,  might  be  with  her.  And  so  he  had  been 
sent  for. 

During  those  two  hot  months  of  the  southern  spring 
Tony  devoted  himself  to  his  mother,  a  devotion  that 
was  only  relaxed  when  later,  the  old  general  having 
scraped  together  enough  for  the  purpose,  the  family 
removed  for  the  summer  to  the  cooler  climate  of  a 
resort  in  the  North  Carolina  mountains.  The  mother 
grieved  not  a  little  for  her  boy's  interrupted  school 
days — she  guessed  at  the  sacrifice  Tony's  cheerfulness 
hid, — but  Tony  and  the  General  knew  that  his  return 
had  saved  her  health  if  not  her  life. 

Tony  had  been  separated  a  great  deal  from  his 
family  since  he  had  gone  north  to  school,  so  that,  after 
the  first  homesickness  for  Deal  was  over,  he  began 
to  be  deeply  interested  again  in  the  old  scenes  and 
familiar  friends  of  his  early  boyhood:  the  easy-going, 
ill-managed  old  plantation  with  its  extensive  sugar 
industry  bringing  in  such  income  as  they  had;  the 
little  hill  on  which  stood  the  house  of  Low  Deering, 
low,  white  and  great  galleried;  the  sleepy  bayou 
that  stretched  away  below  to  the  wild  and  beautiful 
jungle,  a  marshy  live-oak  forest,  picturesquely  hung 
with  the  heavy  lace  of  the  gray  Spanish  moss  and  the 
delicate  purple  of  the  wild  wistaria;  the  inky  black 
darkies,  relics  of  ante-bellum  days;  the  few  famiUes 
of  similar  decaying  plantations  in  the  neighborhood. 

Later  in  the  summer  at  Bald  Rock  in  North  Caro- 
lina, at  the  hotel  to  which  their  diminutive  cottage 
was  attached,  there  were  young  people  again — boys 
to  play  baseball  and  climb  the  near  by  mountains 


228  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

with,  girls  with  whom  to  dance  at  the  Saturday  night 
hops  on  the  great  gallery  of  the  hotel.  Then  too  there 
was  his  father.  Despite  an  inner  disapproval  that 
Tony  could  not  help  feeling  for  his  father's  irrespon- 
sible doings,  for  the  trouble  he  now  and  then  brought 
so  deeply,  perhaps  unwittingly,  upon  them  all,  Tony 
enjoyed  his  father  immensely.  If  he  himself  had 
inherited  his  strong  sense  of  honor  and  his  manly  grip 
on  life  from  his  grandfather,  and  the  inner  patient 
tenderness  we  have  sometimes  noted  in  him  from  his 
mother,  it  was  from  his  father  that  his  charm,  his 
quick  and  ready  sympathy,  his  genial  grace  had  come. 
After  the  terrible  six  months  he  had  given  them, 
Victor  Deering  could  not  have  done  more  to  atone  than 
he  was  whole-heartedly  trying  to  do.  It  was  character- 
istic of  him,  for  he  deeply  appreciated  what  Deal 
School  had  done  for  Tony,  that  his  repentance  should 
have  caused  him  to  suggest  to  the  old  general  that  his 
own  patrimony,  hoarded  by  the  head  of  the  house 
against  a  rainy  day,  should  be  made  over  to  Tony 
at  once,  and  the  income,  the  capital  if  necessary, 
be  applied  to  completing  his  education  at  Deal  and 
later  on  at  Kingsbridge.  General  Deering  took  his 
son  at  his  word.  Victor  was  only  too  eager  to  promise 
from  then  on  steadfast  attention  to  the  plantation, 
which,  better  managed,  was  capable  still  of  recouping 
their  fortunes  and  furnishing  them  with  a  living. 
So  it  began  to  look  bright,  as  Tony  wrote  to  Jimmie 
Lawrence,  for  his  return  to  school,  and  without  any 
question  of  taking  advantage  of  scholarships  or  such 
aid  as  the  Head  had  so  kindly  offered.  That  offer 
rankled,  unjustly  as  he  knew,  in  the  old  aristocrat's 


LEAVE-TAKING  229 

mind.    He  was  determined  Tony  should  have  no  such 
humiliation  to  face. 

Of  the  school  in  these  days  of  Tony's  enforced  exile, 
a  glimpse  shall  be  had  through  the  medium  of  Jimmie 
Lawrence's  letters,  for,  of  course,  the  two  boys  had 
written  each  other  with  some  regularity. 

"Deal  School:  Mmj  10th. 

"Dear  Tony: 

"Well,  old  boy,  how  does  it  seem  to  be  getting  Long  Vacation 
two  months  ahead  of  time?  I  am  glad  to  know  that  your  mother 
is  better;  but  I  shan't  be  contented  again  till  you  tell  me  definitely 
that  you  will  be  back  next  term.  ... 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  what  has  been  going  on  here.  You 
won't  be  surprised  if  I  say  pretty  much  the  yame  old  thing.  It  is 
lively  enough  lo  be  in  the  thick  of  it,  but  there  doesn't  seem  much 
to  write  about.  I  have  naturally  seen  rather  more  of  Kit  since  you 
have  been  away,  and  though  he  does  not  say  much  if  I  try  to  talk 
about  you,  I  can't  but  think  that  things  must  be  all  right  between 
you  next  fall.  I  have  been  seeing  too  a  lot  of  Reggie  Carroll. 
Reggie,  I  suppose,  will  be  the  same  lanky  languid  critter  to  the 
end  of  the  chapter,  but  Bill  dropped  the  word  to  me  the  other  day 
that  he  has  tremendously  bucked  up  in  his  work,  and  that  he's 
going  in  for  the  Latin  Prize.  I  happen  to  know  also  that  he  is 
hammering  away  on  some  verses  for  Jack  Stenton's  prize  in  Poetry. 
From  the  sample  he  read  me  the  other  night,  I  have  no  doubt 
he'll  get  it, — it  is  the  real  thing,  not  the  style  of  the  poems  that 
desecrate  the  pages  of  the  Deal  Lit.  Reggie  is  going  to  turn  out 
O.  K.,  Bill  says;  and  I  begin  to  think  so  myself.  Though  I  must 
confess,  up  to  now,  despite  what  you  have  always  thought  of  him, 
I  have  considered  him  rather  poor  pickings  and  considerably  proud 
of  nothing.  I  haven't  seen  much  of  Finch;  he  keeps  pretty  much 
to  himself;  in  fact  hasn't  been  in  here  since  you  left.  Bill  tells 
me  however  that  he's  to  be  back  again  next  year. 

"The  team  is  developing  in  a  satisfactory  sort  of  way,  and  Teddy 
makes  a  pretty  good  captain.    I'm  playing  first  as  usual.    We  have 


230  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

won  all  our  games  so  far,  and  I  guess  we'll  give  Boxford  a  good 
rub  on  June  10th.    It's  a  shame  you  won't  be  here. 

"There's  not  much  faculty  news.  Gumshoe's  Gumshoe!  His 
rooms  have  been  rough-housed  several  times  lately,  and  from  the 
way  he  glares  at  Kit,  I  fancy,  he  thinks  he  is  responsible.  Kit, 
characteristically,  retaliates  by  veiled  impudence  that  sets  the 
Gumshoe's  teeth  on  edge.    But  he  champs  and  says  nothing. 

"The  fellows  ask  about  you  a  lot,  and  send  their  best.  Let  me 
hear  from  you  soon,  and  don't  forget  you  are  to  spend  the  last 
month  of  the  vacation  with  me  at  Easthampfield.    Write  soon. 

"Ever  affectionately, 

"JiMMIE." 

In  June  there  came  another  letter  that  interested 
Tony  very  much. 

"Reggie  has  pulled  both  the  Latin  and  the  Poetry  Prizes.  Even 
the  Gumshoe  thawed  a  trifle  and  shook  hands  with  him  as  he  came 
down  from  the  platform  on  Prize  Day,  with  a  set  of  Browning  in 
his  arms  and  the  Jackson  medal  in  his  inside  pocket.  He's  so 
blamed  clever  that  he  has  got  a  cum  laude.  Bill  beams  with  pride 
over  him.  The  President  of  Kingsbridge,  a  funny  old  chap  who 
talks  through  his  nose  and  has  a  wit  as  keen  as  a  razor,  made  us  a 
bully  talk,  and  the  Doctor  announced  the  prefects  for  next  year — 
curiously  enough  he  said  the  Head  Prefect  will  not  be  appointed 
until  the  opening  of  school  in  September.  We  all  suppose,  of 
course,  that  that  means  you,  and  that  it  is  only  postponed  until 
it  is  certain  that  you  are  coming  back.  The  other  prefects  will  be 
Teddy,  Gordon  Powel,  Doc  Thorn,  Ned  Clavering  and  myself. 
I  had  hoped  Kit  would  be  one,  but  he's  been  too  independent  I 
guess.  It's  a  pretty  good  lot  of  fellows,  I  think,  though  I  say  it  as 
shouldn't,  and  with  you  at  the  head,  we  ought  to  run  things  very 
much  as  we  want  to  next  year.  ..." 

Tony  had  scarcely  thought  of  the  Head  Prefect- 
ship  since  he  had  left  school.  He  believed  that  there 
were  others  better  fitted  for  it  than  himself  and  who 


LEAVE-TAKING  231 

more  deserved  it.  The  fact  that  he  was  President 
of  the  Dealonian  made  him  an  obvious  candidate, 
of  course;  and  certainly  if  the  authorities  thought  him 
up  to  the  position  he  would  be  glad  to  have  it.  The 
possibility  from  this  time  on  added  to  the  keenness 
with  which  he  looked  forward  to  his  return  in  Sep- 
tember. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    HEAD    PREFECTSHIP 

A  warm  bright  September  day  at  Deal.  A  golden 
light  from  the  western  sun  fell  athwart  the  green  fields 
of  the  school  and  cast  great  shadows  upon  the  beach 
and  the  tranquil  bay  beyond.  It  had  rained  the  day 
before,  after  a  long  drought,  so  that  the  air  was  fresh 
and  the  foliage  had  taken  on  a  gayer  green.  The 
long  white  Port  Road  leading  down  the  hill  toward 
Monday  Port  was  dotted  with  hacks,  flies,  barges, 
coming  to  and  returning  from  the  school,  each  one  de- 
positing at  the  terrace  steps  a  somewhat  noisy  and 
merry  contingent  of  boys.  They,  after  greeting  the 
Doctor  and  Mrs.  Forester  in  the  great  hall,  scattered 
to  their  quarters  to  stow  their  belongings  and  compare 
animated  notes  with  their  friends. 

From  an  angle  of  the  Old  School,  where  he  was 
screened  from  view  by  a  mass  of  shrubbery,  Jacob 
Finch  lay  flat  on  his  stomach,  his  peaked  face  in  his 
hands,  and  his  thin  little  legs,  half  hidden  now  by 
long  trousers,  kicking  in  the  air  behind  him.  Below 
him,  descending  terrace  by  terrace  and  over  the 
green  sloping  fields,  stretched  the  wonderful  Deal 
country,  so  fresh  and  wind-swept,  gleaming  in  the 
mellow  afternoon  light ;  he  looked  out  over  the  curving 
tawny  beach,  the  great  sweep  of  the  greenish-brown 

232 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  233 

marshes,  the  grayish-green  of  the  dunes,  the  still  sheet 
of  opaque  water  under  the  ledges  of  Lovel's  Woods; 
and  beyond  the  great  fan-shaped  curves  of  Sttathsey 
Neck,  the  rocks,  the  islands,  and  at  last  the  boundless 
expanse  of  the  ocean,  blue  this  afternoon  as  an  Italian 
lake.  It  was  an  afternoon  to  remember,  to  feel  glad 
for  from  a  sense  of  its  sheer  beauty. 

But  Finch  was  totally  unconscious  of  the  scene 
before  him.  Instead  his  eyes  were  fastened  with  an 
intent  gaze  upon  the  white  road  and  the  long  driveway 
that  divided  the  playing-fields.  He  eagerly  scanned 
each  vehicle  as  it  approached  and  deposited  its 
load  at  the  flight  of  steps  that  led  up  to  the  principal 
terrace.  Each  time  an  expression  of  disappointment 
would  settle  upon  his  face,  until  it  was  transformed 
again  to  eager  interest  at  the  approach  of  another 
carriage. 

Finch  had  spent  the  summer  at  Deal,  so  perhaps 
there  was  little  reason  for  him  to  become  enthusiastic 
over  a  prospect  of  beauty  of  which  he  had  had  so  many 
opportunities  for  growing  weary.  As  he  looked  back 
on  the  spring  term,  he  hardly  knew  how  he  had  got 
through  it.  He  lived  during  its  last  six  weeks  more 
than  ever  in  his  shell,  studying  desperately  to  pass  his 
examinations.    And  in  that  he  had  succeeded. 

After  Deering's  departure  and  his  own  exposure 
before  Wilson,  he  avoided  every  one,  even  Lawrence 
and  Mr.  Morris.  And  save  on  two  or  three  occasions, 
after  a  more  bitter  jibe  than  usual  in  the  class-room 
when  he  revenged  himself  on  Mr.  Roylston,  he  gave 
up  his  secret  vandalism.  During  the  summer  he  stayed 
on  at  Deal.    The  time  had  gone  pleasantly  enough, 


234  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

and  had  he  been  able  to  recoup  his  health,  he  might 
have  been  restored  to  an  equable  frame  of  mind,  but 
unfortunately  he  was  physically  as  miserable  as  ever. 

By  the  middle  of  August  he  began  to  worry  about 
the  possibility  of  Deering  not  coming  back.  After 
a  letter  or  so,  which  characteristically  he  had  left 
unanswered,  he  heard  nothing  from  Tony.  In  August 
he  heard,  however,  from  Doctor  Forester,  who  was 
spending  a  week-end  with  the  Lawrences  at  East- 
hampfield.  "You  will  be  interested  to  learn,"  he  had 
written,  "that  your  friend  Anthony  Deering  is  here 
with  James,  and  that  there  is  now  no  longer  any  doubt 
of  his  returning  to  school  in  September.  I  look  for- 
ward to  great  things  from  him  as  leader  of  the  school." 
From  that  time  on  Finch  lived  from  day  to  day  on  the 
expectation  of  Tony's  return.  He  was  thrilled  by  the 
implied  statement  of  the  Head  Master's  letter  that 
Tony  would  be  appointed  Head  Prefect,  though  he 
could  not  imagine  that  any  other  boy  had  for  a 
moment  been  seriously  considered.  Several  times  the 
first  day  of  the  term  when  he  had  heard  the  boys 
discussing  the  probability  of  Tony's  return  and  ap- 
pointment, he  smiled  to  himself  with  secret  glee  and 
a  strange  feeling  of  self-importance  at  his  inside 
information.  But  he  said  nothing.  It  pleased  him 
though  that  almost  all  of  the  boys  seemed  to  take  it 
for  granted. 

At  last,  on  that  lovely  September  afternoon  as  Jake 
lay  under  the  bushes  on  the  Old  School  terrace,  he 
was  rewarded  for  his  long  vigil.  In  one  of  the  last 
of  the  many  carriages  that  drove  up,  he  saw  Lawi'ence 
and   Deering.      The  rays   of  the   setting  sun   were 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  235 

shining  on  the  top  of  Tony's  bare  copper-colored  head 
and  made  it  glow  like  burnished  gold.  To  Jake's 
adoring  eyes  it  was  as  the  halo  about  the  head  of  a 
patron  saint.  He  watched  the  two  boys  clamber  out 
of  their  hack,  pay  the  driver,  and  join  a  merry  crowd 
of  fellows  who  were  unofficially  welcoming  late 
arrivals.  ''Hello  Tony!"  "Hello  Jim!"  "Well,  I'm 
mighty  glad  to  see  you!"  With  such  cries  he  heard 
fresh  young  voices  ring;  and  with  bright  eyes,  he  fol- 
lowed his  hero  as  he  entered  the  doors  of  the  Old 
School  in  the  midst  of  a  happy  crowd  of  his  classmates. 
Through  the  window,  to  which  he  crept,  he  saw  the 
cordial  greeting  that  Tony  and  Jimmie  got  from  the 
Doctor  and  Mrs.  Forester.  A  moment  later  Finch 
saw  Kit  Wilson  enter,  and  heartily  greet  every  one 
except  Tony.  He  sent  a  glance  of  vindictive  hatred 
toward  Wilson  that  it  was  well  for  him  Kit  did  not  see. 

About  half-an-hour  after  supper  Jake  tapped 
timidly  at  the  door  of  Number  Five  study.  In  re- 
sponse there  came  a  hearty  "Come  in." 

"Why,  hello,  Finch,"  cried  Tony,  grasping  his 
visitor's  hand  with  a  strong  grip,  "I  declare,  you're 
getting  fat." 

Finch  laughed  ruefully.     "Not  very,  I  guess." 

"Well,  old  chap,  how  have  you  been?  Why  the 
deuce  haven't  you  ever  written  to  me?" 

"I  dunno;  I'm  no  hand  at  writing,  I  guess.  I  was 
glad  to  hear  from  you  though." 

"How  goes  it?    Where  have  you  been  all  summer? " 

"Here,"  answered  Finch  laconically. 

"Here!  what  on  earth  were  you  doing  here?" 

"Didn't  have  money  enough  to  go  any  place  else. 


236  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

The  Head  gave  me  some  work  in  the  library,  cata- 
loguing books." 

''Good  for  him!  I  ought  to  have  been  working 
myself,  I  reckon.  Money's  been  pretty  scarce  down 
our  way  too.  By  Jove,  old  boy,  it's  good  to  be  back, 
you  know.  You  don't  know  how  much  you  care  for 
the  old  shop  till  you  leave  it." 

''No,  I  guess  you  don't,"  was  Finch's  ambiguous 
reply. 

"Well,  Jake,  we're  going  to  have  a  good  year  this 
time  anyway.  I'm  going  to  pull  you  out  of  the  dumps 
instanter.  Jimmie  says  you've  been  cutting  Number 
Fivesince  I've  been  away.  Thatwon't  do."  He  looked 
about  him  with  undisguised  pride  and  pleasure. 
"Things  do  look  pretty  nice  and  comfy  in  the  old 
camp-ground,  don't  they?" 

"They  certainly  do  look  good  for  you,  Deering. 
You'll  be  Head  Prefect." 

"Stop  your  kidding,  Jake." 

"Oh,  you  know  you'll  get  it,"  said  Jake.  "I  guess 
it  would  have  been  announced  all  right  last  spring 
if  you  hadn't  been  so  sure  you  mightn't  come  back. 
But  it's  all  right  now." 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,"  rejoined  Tony  with  a 
laugh,  "of  course  I  hope  it's  all  right.  It's  a  sort  of 
a  turn-down  when  a  President  of  the  Dealonian 
doesn't  get  it.  But  there  are  other  chaps  that  deserve 
it  on  other  accounts  much  more  than  I  do.  There's 
Ned  Clavering  and  Doc  Thorn.  They  are  the  right 
sort.  We've  never  been  very  thick  but  there  aren't 
two  fellows  in  the  school  that  I  have  more  respect  for. 
I  reckon  if  I  hadn't  made  that  lucky  run  in  the  Boxford 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  237 

game  and  been  elected  President  of  the  Dealonian 
soon  after,  that  Ned  would  have  had  a  better  chance 
than  I.  Fact  is,  I  really  never  thought  of  being  Head 
Prefect  till  I  had  that  election  thrust  upon  me." 

"Clavering  and  Thorn  are  prefects  all  right.  But 
you  are  to  be  head.    The  Doctor  told  me  so  himself." 

''The  deuce  he  did!" 

''Honest.  He  wrote  me  a  letter  about  my  being 
here  last  summer  while  he  was  at  Easthampfield, 
staying  with  Mr.  Lawrence.  He  said  you  were  there 
with  Lawrence,  and  then  told  me  that  you  were  to  be 
Head  Prefect." 

"  That's  funny.  But  if  it's  so,  why  of  course  I'm 
mighty  glad.  As  far  back  as  I  know  anything  about 
the  school  there  have  only  been  three  Presidents 
of  Dealonian  who  were  not  Head  Prefect  in  their 
Sixth  Form  year.  However,  it  means  a  lot  of  respon- 
sibiUty  and  knocks  out  chances  of  a  heap  of  fun." 

"I  guess  you're  up  to  it,"  said  Finch  with  con- 
viction. 

"If  I  get  it,  I'll  certainly  try  to  make  good.  But 
as  a  matter  of  fact  I  haven't  got  it  yet.  Tell  me  how 
things  went  last  year?    How's  the  dear  old  Gumshoe?  " 

"  Same  as  ever.    I  hate  him." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  child;  there's  mighty  few  people 
worth  hating." 

" He  is,"  said  Jake  without  a  smile.    "He's  a  sneak." 

"Now,  as  a  matter  of  fapt,  Jake,  I  don't  think  he 
is.  The  Gumshoe,  as  I  have  reason  to  know,  can  be 
uncommonly  mean,  but  I  don't  believe  for  a  minute 
that  he's  a  sneak.  I  am  coming  by  degrees,  reflection 
bein'   aided  by  merciful  separation,   to  understand 


238  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  Gumshoe's  point  of  view:  it's  pinched  and  peaked, 
but  it  isn't  sneaky — he  is  just  as  disagreeable  to  your 
face  as  he  possibly  can  be  behind  your  back.  He's 
had  a  hard  row  to  hoe,  and  I  don't  blame  him  now 
and  then  for  being  crabbed  and  sour.  But  I  reckon 
he  takes  it  out  in  that." 

''I  don't  think  he  does,"  said  Finch  quite  uncon- 
vinced by  Tony's  more  generous  reasoning.  "I  don't 
think  so  at  all.  He'd  strike  in  the  dark.  I  don't 
trust  him." 

"Reggie  never  would  either,"  Tony  mused  for  the 
moment;  then  more  cheerfully,  ''But  come,  let's  talk 

of  something  pleasant.    How Why,  hello,  Ted." 

This  last  exclamation  was  directed  at  a  drab  comical 
face  and  ruffled  head  of  mouse-colored  hair  that 
thrust  itself  through  the  half-open  doorway.  ''Come 
in,  you  duffer." 

"Didn't  know  you  were  busy,"  said  Teddy  Lansing,^ 
entering. 

"Well,  I  ain't,"  said  Tony. 

Finch  rose  from  his  seat  on  the  window-sill  and 
sidled  toward  the  door.  "I  guess  I'll  be  going,"  he 
said  to  Deering,  and  bolted. 

"Now,  what  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  him?" 
exclaimed  Tony.    "  He  shies  at  his  shadow." 

"Pah — Pinch!"  Teddy  spat  with  emphasis  at 
the  waste  paper  basket. 

Tony  looked  up  quickly,  but  restrained  the  im- 
pulse of  annoyance.  "What's  the  matter  with 
Finch?" 

"Oh,  nothing  particular.  I  just  don't  like  him. 
He's  a  sneak.    But  there,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Tony," 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  239 

Teddy  caught  himself,  remembering  the  cause  of 
Deering's  quarrel  with  Wilson.  "  I  suppose  you  will 
stand  up  for  him.  I  don't  know  much  about  him; 
but  he  got  on  my  nerves  last  spring  to  a  degree.  Guess 
he's  bug-house." 

"He  has  had  a  blamed  hard  time  here — that  ac- 
counts for  it.  But  I  don't  think  he  is  a  sneak.  If  we 
had  given  him  half  a  chance ." 

"I  know,  I  know,  old  chap;  you've  certainly  given 
him  more  than  half  a  chance,  and  if  you  think  it 
pays,  all  right  all  right.  I  think,  you  know,  that 
Pinch  isn't  worth  the  trouble  you've  taken  with 
him.  But  I'll  admit  that  I  had  no  right  to  call  him  a 
sneak.    However  he  hasn't  made  good  here." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Tony.  "But  I  wish  he  could. 
Where's  the  crowd?  " 

"Unpacking,  I  guess.  What  sort  of  a  summer 
have  you  had,  old  man?  We  missed  you  a  lot  here 
last  spring." 

"Bully — I  was  down  in  the  mountains,  North 
Carolina.    Where  were  you?" 

"Oh,  home  mostly.  Confound!  there's  the  bell  for 
Chapel.    Come  on,  let's  wander  down." 

The  two  boys  made  their  way,  arm  in  arm,  through 
Standerland  corridors,  across  a  moonlight-flooded 
campus  to  the  Chapel.  At  the  entrance  they  came 
face  to  face  with  Mr.  Roylston;  he  gave  them  a 
short  greeting  and  passed  rapidly  within.  Tony 
was  in  high  spirits,  and  waited  outside  until  the  last 
moment,  greeting  boys  he  had  not  seen  and  an  oc- 
casional master.  He  could  not  help  wondering,  as 
he  took  his  seat  with  a  feeling  of  pride  in  the  Sixth 


240  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Form  rows,  if  the  Doctor  would  announce  who  was 
to  be  Head  Prefect  that  evening. 

But  he  did  not.  After  the  customary  short  service, 
an  adaptation  of  Evening  Prayer  from  the  Prayer- 
book,  the  Head  made  a  few  general  announcements, 
including  a  faculty  meeting  that  evening,  and  then 
gave  the  boys  a  talk.  Doctor  Forester  was  at  his  best 
in  Chapel.  There  was  a  simplicity  in  his  sermons  and 
addresses,  a  rugged  kindly  earnestness,  lit  up  by 
occasional  flashes  of  insight  and  vision,  that  made 
him  from  the  Chapel  pulpit  a  genuine  moral  and 
religious  force  amongst  his  boys.  His  theme  that 
evening  was  the  Power  of  Kindness  as  a  source  of 
happiness  and  goodness  in  the  life  of  the  school. 
Tony,  as  he  listened,  felt  a  pang  of  remorse  for  his 
jibes  at  Mr.  Roylston  and  a  keen  sting  of  regret 
for  his  difference  with  Kit;  otherwise,  on  the  whole, 
he  thought,  he  did  try  to  be  kind.  And  he  liked  what 
the  Doctor  said  because  it  put  his  own  views  into 
much  better,  clearer  terms  than  he  could  have  given 
them. 

Tony,  though  he  had  absorbed  much  of  the  best 
that  the  school  and  the  strong  men  who  made  the 
school  could  give  him,  had  not  consciously  been  deeply 
touched  or  drawn  to  the  religious  life  of  the  place. 
He  said  his  prayers  at  night;  once  in  a  long,  long  time 
he  read  his  Bible;  he  tried  to  do  his  duty  mostly, 
he  wanted  usually  to  be  kind;  indeed  he  usually  was 
kind;  and,  thought  little  more  about  it.  His  family 
were  all  churchmen  and  he  supposed  that  some  time 
he  would  be  confirmed,  but  he  had  not  yet  been,  and 
indeed  had  never  understood  what  it  was  that  drew 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  241 

people,  especially  boys  of  his  age,  toward  a  more  per- 
sonal religion.  But  to-night,  the  old  familiar  hymns, 
sung  with  such  hearty  good  will ;  the  gracious  cadences 
of  the  well-known  prayers  and  psalms;  the  sense  of 
dependence  upon  and  communion  with  a  Higher 
Power  that  breathed  in  the  Doctor's  talk  to  them: 
and  particularly  the  soft  singing  in  Latin  of  an  old 
monastic  hymn,  set  to  a  Gregorian  rhythm  which  the 
boys  always  sang  at  evening  services  in  the  Chapel : — 
to-night,  it  all  touched  him  more  intimately  and  deeply 
than  it  ever  had  done  before. 

"I  think  I  will  be  confirmed  this  year,  Jimmie," 
he  said  to  his  room-mate,  as  they  strolled  across  the 
campus  in  the  soft  night,  with  their  arms  about  each 
other's  necks. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  Jimmie  replied,  somewhat  to 
his  surprise.  ''I  was  confirmed  last  spring,  and  I'm 
mighty  glad  I  was." 

They  fell  then  into  intimate  talk — of  themselves, 
of  the  summer,  of  their  plans  for  the  year.  .  .  . 

While  the  boys  of  the  school  were  busy  that  evening 
with  their  unpacking  and  the  setting  of  their  rooms 
to  order,  under  the  supervision  of  the  younger  masters, 
the  senior  members  of  the  faculty  were  gathering 
for  their  first  meeting  of  the  term  in  the  Masters' 
common-room.  This  room  was  directly  back  of  the 
library.  Its  windows  opened  eastward  on  to  the 
terrace,  and  commanded  a  superb  view  of  the  moon- 
light-flooded sea  and  shore.  The  windows  were 
opened  to  the  night  air,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  late 
honeysuckle  drifted  in  on  the  soft  breeze. 

Doctor  Forester  was  the  last  to  enter.     He  had 


242  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

stopped  a  moment  in  the  library  to  speak  with  Finch, 
who  was  reading  there. 

"  Oh,  Jacob,"  he  said,  pausing  as  if  he  suddenly 
recollected  something,  ''do  you  chance  to  remember 
a  letter  I  wrote  you  last  summer  from  Easthampfield 
when  I  was  staying  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawrence?" 

"Yes,  SU-." 

"Well,  I  just  wish  to  caution  you  not  to  repeat  any 
remark  I  seem  to  recall  having  made  there  about  this 
year's  Head  Prefect.  I  want  it  to  come  as  a  surprise  to 
all  the  boys,  as  well  as  to  the  boy  I  think  I  mentioned. 
But  the  appointment  is  not  made  yet — it  is  always 
done  in  conjunction  with  the  masters." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  Doctor  passed  on  into  the  common-room. 

In  a  few  moments  he  had  settled  himself  behind  the 
big  table,  and  glanced  about  over  his  glasses  at  his 
colleagues,  to  see  who  was  present.  About  thirty 
members  of  the  faculty  were  there,  including  all  of 
the  senior  masters.  Morris  was  standing  with  a  little 
group  by  the  fireplace.  Mr.  Roylston  was  sitting  by 
the  window  looking  out  upon  the  moonlit  sea. 

"Gentlemen,  will  you  please  come  to  order."  The 
Doctor  paused  for  a  moment  while  they  settled  into 
various  attitudes  of  attention.  "I  have  called  you 
together  to-night  to  settle  with  your  advice  the  ques- 
tion of  the  Head  Prefectship.  I  have  seldom  post- 
poned this  appointment  until  after  the  Long  Vacation, 
but  last  June  the  boy  who  seemed  to  have  most  claim 
to  the  place  left  school  and  it  was  doubtful  for  the 
time  if  he  would  return.  I  may  say,  that  I  should  have 
appointed  him  even  with  that  doubt  unsettled,  had 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  243 

not  one  of  the  senior  masters  particularly  requested 
me   to   postpone   the   appointment   until   this   fall." 

He  paused  again,  and  looked  about  him.  ''There 
is  no  reason  for  further  delay.  The  obvious  candidate 
for  the  position  is,  of  course,  Anthony  Deering.  He 
was,  as  you  all  know,  not  only  the  president  of  the 
Dealonian  Society,  which  according  to  tradition  reg- 
isters the  boys'  choice  of  their  leader,  but  he  was 
unanimously  nominated  to  me  by  the  retiring  prefects 
of  last  year's  Sixth  Form.  I  may  say  at  once,  that 
unless  there  is  strong  reason  to  the  contrary,  that  I 
am  disposed  to  confirm  that  nomination  this  evening. 
He  is  a  boy  who  has  been  keenly  interested  in  most  of 
the  school  activities  and  he  has  shown  ability  and 
capacity  for  leadership  in  most  of  them.  Personally, 
as  we  all  feel  I  imagine,  he  is  a  charming  lad,  high  bred, 
coming  of  one  of  the  best  old  southern  families;  and, 
as  on  several  occasions  I  have  had  the  opportunity 
for  judging,  he  has  always  displayed  a  sense  of  honor 
and  an  attitude  of  unselfishness  and  kindness  that  is 
as  rare  as  it  is  delightful.  I  should  be  glad,  however, 
to  hear  your  comments  on  the  nomination,  or  to  have 
the  merits  of  any  other  boy  discussed  whom  you  may 
feel  is  entitled  to  consideration." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  Stenton  addressed  the 
masters.  "Doctor  Forester,"  he  said,  "I  should  like 
to  say  that  I  thoroughly  agree  with  all  that  you  say 
about  Deering.  I  have  observed  him  at  close  quarters 
on  the  athletic  field,  and  I  never  knew  a  squarer, 
more  plucky  lad.  As  you  know,  other  things  being 
equal,  I  believe  that  an  athlete  should  have  preference 
for  the  Head  Prefectship.    Two  years  ago  I  doubted 


244  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

if  Deering  would  fulfill  his  athletic  promise,  but  his 
exploit  in  the  Boxford  game  of  last  year,  thoroughly 
re-established  his  athletic  reputation.  I  think  he  is, 
simply  because  of  his  genial  character  and  general 
popularity,  better  adapted  to  the  position  than  Ned 
Clavering,  the  football  captain,  who  would  be  my 
next  choice.  He  too  is  a  fine  chap,  and  though  he 
lacks  Deering's  attractiveness,  he  is  not  so  quick  and 
impulsive." 

''His  impulses,"  asked  the  Head,  "are  usually 
generous,  are  they  not?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  they  are,"  Stenton  replied.  "He  is 
decidedly  my  choice." 

"And  you,  Mr.  Morris?" 

"Why,  yes,  sir;  I  fancy  my  opinion  of  Deering 
is  well  known.  He  has  faults.  He  is  impulsive,  as 
Stenton  says;  he  is  quick  and  he  has  a  sharp  temper. 
But  granting  that,  I  am  frank  to  say  that  he  is  a  boy 
whom  it  has  been  a  privilege  as  well  as  a  pleasure  to 
know.  I  think  not  merely  that  we  would  make  no 
mistake  in  selecting  him  for  Head  Prefect,  but  that 
we  could  not  possibly  find  another  boy  who  would 
do  so  well." 

"That  is  very  much  my  impression,"  said  the 
Doctor.     "Unless — yes,  Mr.  Roylston." 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,"  interrupted  Mr.  Roylston, 
from  his  seat  on  the  window-bench,  in  low  distinct 
tones  in  which  there  was  discernible  but  a  trace  of 
feeling,  "I  am  sorry  to  say  there  is  an  'unless.'  I 
regret  very  much  to  utter  a  discordant  note  to  the 
chorus  of  praise  that  has  been  sounding  for  the  boy 
whose  name  is  under  our  consideration,  but  a  sense 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  245 

of  duty  as  well  as  deep  personal  feeling  impels  me  to 
say  that  I  should  regard  it  as  a  calamity  of  injustice 
if  he  should  receive  this  appointment." 

The  men  turned  with  amazement  and  curiosity 
in  the  direction  of  the  Latin  master.  "My  experience 
of  him,"  that  gentleman  continued,  ''though  it  has 
scarcely  been  as  intimate  as  that  of  Mr.  Stenton  or 
Mr.  Morris, — both  of  whom,  I  understand,  believe 
in  as  well  as  practice,  cultivating  intimacies  with 
boys, — but  it  has  been  as  extended.  And  never,  I 
desire  to  say,  in  my  long  experience  have  I  had  as 
much  trouble  or  been  subjected  to  such  impertinence 
and  insult  as  by  Deering  and  his  satellites." 

Doctor  Forester  interrupted  his  assistant  master 
a  little  impatiently.  "I  should  be  obliged  if  you  will 
specify  some  of  his  delinquencies,  Mr.  Roylston." 

"I  fear  I  should  exhaust  your  patience,"  replied 
the  master,  "if  I  attempted  to  detail  the  difficulties 
to  which  I  have  been  subjected.  I  shall  content  my- 
self with  but  one  instance  which  was  the  culmination 
last  spring  of  a  long  series  of  annoyances." 

All  of  the  men  in  the  room  were  now  giving 
Mr.  Roylston  an  undivided  attention.  All  were  sur- 
prised except  Beverly;  even  Morris  looked  at  him  with 
open-eyed  amazement.  They  knew,  of  course,  that  he 
had  had  what  they  regarded  trifling  disciplinary- 
troubles  with  Deering  and  his  friends, — a  lively  crowd, 
especially  in  their  Lower  School  days, — but  they  had 
no  reason  to  suspect  that  the  master  would  take  such  a 
definitely  hostile  attitude  in  a  matter  that  seriously 
affected  a  boy's  school  life.  Doctor  Forester  had 
had    some  slight  intimation,   as  it  had  been   Mr. 


246  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Roylston  who  urged  the  postponement  of  the  ap- 
pointment. 

"Some  time  last  year,"  continued  Mr.  Roylston, — 
"in  March,  to  be  more  exact, — I  had  some  difficulty 
with  Deering  and  Wilson,  who  were  then  chums, 
though  I  believe  that  Wilson  has  since  formed  other 
associations.  They  broke  a  gating  that  I  had  imposed 
upon  them,  and  when  the  matter  was  referred  to  the 
Head  Master, — unwisely,  I  thought,  as  I  trust  I  may 
be  pardoned  for  saying, — their  disobedience  was  not 
punished.  From  that  time  on  I  do  not  think  that  I 
am  mistaken  in  saying  that  I  marked  a  bravado  in 
their  attitude  toward  me  that  was  just  short  of 
impertinence.  I  did  not  relax  my  vigilance,  so  there 
were  no  more  overt  acts  of  disobedience.  However, 
they  had  what  I  suppose  they  considered  their  revenge. 
One  day  in  first  study  I  confiscated  from  the  boy 
Finch  a  composition  entitled  'The  Spectacle.'  Upon 
examination  it  proved  to  be  a  somewhat  coarse 
imitation  of  Addison's  Spectator."  Mr.  Roylston 
drew  a  copy  of  Tony's  unfortunate  composition  from 
his  pocket.  "The  particular  number  that  fell  into  my 
hands  was  entitled  'Soft-toed  Samuel.'  With  your 
permission,  sir,  I  should  like  to  read  it  to  the  faculty." 

"Certainly,"  assented  Doctor  Forester,  "if  you 
think  best.    If  you  prefer " 

"I  do  prefer,  sir." 

"  Very  good — read  it,  by  all  means." 

Mr.  Roylston  slowly  unfolded  the  paper,  adjusted 
his  spectacles,  and  read  to  his  colleagues  Tony's 
effusion.  He  read  it  well,  did  full  justice  to  the  sar- 
casm, the  animus  that  had  been  in  the  writer's  mind 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  247 

at  the  moment  of  composition.  Some  of  the  men, 
conscious  of  the  invasion  it  made  upon  magisterial 
dignity,  were  plainly  in  sympathy  with  Roylston's 
indignation;  others  found  difficulty  in  concealing  their 
enjoyment  of  its  wit,  and  a  little  perhaps,  in  hiding 
their  satisfaction  in  seeing  a  colleague,  none  too  popu- 
lar with  themselves,  held  up  to  ridicule. 

As  Mr.  Roylston  concluded,  he  folded  the  paper  and 
handed  it  to  the  Head  Master.  "  That,  sir,"  he  said, 
''is  a  copy  of  the  original  which  was  in  Anthony 
Deering's  handwriting,  and  the  authorship  of  which 
he  acknowledged." 

Doctor  Forester  took  the  poor  Spectacle  into  his 
hands  and  glanced  at  it.  ''This  is,  of  course,  very 
distressing;  very  unfortunate;  a  most  unfortunate 
occurrence." 

Morris  spoke  up  quickly.  "  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Royls- 
ton, if  Deering  did  not  apologize  for  this  thing  and 
show  genuine  regret?" 

"For  its  discovery,  yes,"  answered  Mr.  Roylston 
dryly,  as  he  met  Morris's  keen  glance  with  a  stare 
of  scarcely  concealed  dislike. 

"No,  not  for  the  discovery;  for  the  thing  itself, 
I  mean,"  said  Morris. 

"He  apologized,  of  course.  There  was  nothing  else 
he  could  do  as  the  evidence  was  perfect.  As  for 
contrition,  you,  perhaps,  are  a  better  judge  of  that 
than  I." 

Morris  flushed.  "Deering  has  never  mentioned  the 
matter  to  me,  Mr.  Roylston.  I  agree  with  you  that 
it  is  a  flagrant  impropriety  and  that  it  must  have 
seemed  to  you  a  gratuitous  insult.     But,  of  course, 


248  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

it  was  not  intended  for  your  eyes,  and  I  dare  say,  is 
no  worse  than  many  another  such  squib  as  might 
be  directed  at  any  of  us  by  almost  any  boy.  Their 
sense  of  fun  is  doubtless  often  misdirected,  but  it  is 
only  a  sense  of  fun,  I  believe,  and  usually  quite  devoid 
of  malice." 

"My  acquaintance  with  Deering,  Mr.  Morris,  has 
not  been  of  so  happy  a  nature  as  yours.  I  am  not  able 
to  believe  that  he  is  devoid  of  malice." 

"Gentlemen,"  interrupted  the  Head,  "I  should  be 
glad  to  hear  anything  you  have  to  say  on  the  subject. 
I  appreciate  Mr.  Roylston's  very  natural  feeling.  I 
hope  very  much,  however,  that  he  may  see  with 
me  that  it  is  one  of  those  unfortunate  incidents 
which ." 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  master,  "if  I 
define  my  attitude  precisely.  It  will  prevent  misunder- 
standing. I  have  reflected  on  this  matter  for  six 
months.  I  can  only  say  that  should  the  Head  Master 
and  the  faculty  of  this  school  reward  with  the  highest 
honors  a  boy  who  so  deeply  has  insulted  a  member 
of  the  faculty,  thus  seeming  to  stamp  with  their 
approval  a  quite  intolerable  attitude  of  disrespect, 
that  I  should  be  under  the  painful  necessity  of  severing 
my  connection  with  the  institution."  With  that  he 
rose,  bowed  slightly,  and  excused  himself. 

Doctor  Forester  rose  quickly.  "Gentlemen,  this 
is  evidently  a  more  serious  question  than  I  had 
supposed.  I  shall  speak  with  Mr.  Roylston  alone, 
and  with  your  permission  I  will  take  the  responsibility 
of  a  decision  entirely  upon  myself.  I  think  we  may 
consider  the  meeting  adjourned." 


THE  HEAD  PREFECTSHIP  249 

Had  the  masters  that  evening  been  less  intent  upon 
what  was  going  on  within,  sharp  eyes,  directed  to  the 
clump  of  bushes  immediately  beneath  the  windows, 
might  have  detected  an  eavesdropper  on  their  proceed- 
ings. But  they  did  not,  and  when  the  meeting  had 
adjourned,  he  slunk,  unobserved,  away. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST 

When  Finch,  for  he  was  the  eavesdropper,  crawled 
out  of  the  bushes  under  the  window  of  the  Masters' 
common-room,  he  darted  quickly,  keeping  within  the 
shadow  of  the  Old  School  wall,  into  a  little  clump 
of  trees  beyond  the  terrace.  He  was  stiff  and  sore 
from  lying  motionless  so  long  and  had  got  thoroughly 
chilled  from  the  dampness  of  the  ground.  But  his 
mind  and  soul  were  at  fever  heat. 

He  had  heard  almost  all  of  the  conversation  in  the 
room  above  him,  and  he  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
coiu-se  of  events.  He  felt  much  as  a  general  must 
who  receives  the  report  of  a  spy  informing  him  that  the 
enemy  have  augmented  forces  with  which  he  cannot 
hope  to  cope.  Finch  felt  that  he  could  not  endure 
the  situation  another  minute.  It  had  seemed  that  he 
must  shriek  out  more  than  once  as  Mr.  Roylston  had 
so  calmly,  with  such  deadly  determination,  built 
up  his  case  against  Deering.  Finch  felt  his  hero  and 
himself  the  victims  of  an  ignoble  conspiracy. 

The  boy  had  grown  of  late  so  accustomed  to  deceit, 
that  for  the  time  being  he  absolutely  forgot  how  con- 
temptible his  own  action  had  been  and  how  it  would 
appear  to  others,  to  Tony.  He  was  an  Ishmael,  and 
felt  himself  justified  in  raising  his  hands  against 
every  one  because  all  hands  seemed  raised  against  him. 

250 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  251 

And  his  poor  warped  mind  knew  of  no  weapons  except 
deceit,  trickery,  eavesdropping,  with  which  to  cope 
against  the  authority  and  success  which  were  his 
enemies.  But  now  he  was  thinking  of  but  one  thing — 
the  position  he  so  eagerly  coveted  for  Tony  was 
threatened,  and,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  his  inveterate 
enemy,  was  apt  to  be  given  to  another. 

After  pausing  for  a  moment  or  so  in  the  clump  of 
bushes,  in  which  to  gather  together  his  shivering 
body,  he  slipped  off,  entered  the  Old  School  by  a 
basement  door,  made  a  detour  through  the  locker- 
rooms,  and  emerged  again  in  the  north  quadrangle. 
He  dashed  across  the  campus  and  up  the  stairs  of 
Standerland  to  the  door  of  Number  Five  study,  and 
knocked  boldly,  almost  without  knowing  what  he 
was  going  to  say  to  Tony. 

Deering  and  Jimmie  were  within,  with  two  or  three 
other  boys.  Finch  gave  a  frightened  glance  about, 
but  for  once  he  overcame  his  self -consciousness  enough 
to  whisper  at  Deering,  "Come  over  to  my  room,  will 
you?  I  want  to  see  you  particularly  for  a  few  minutes." 

Tony  went  to  the  door.    "What  is  it?"  he  began. 

"Please  come  over,"  Finch  continued.  "I  have 
something  important  to  tell  you." 

Once  in  his  own  little  room,  Jake  turned  a  white 
excited  face  to  Tony,  his  shyness  was  gone,  absorbed 
now  by  his  passion  of  rage  and  anxiety. 

"Well,  what  the  deuce  is  up?"  asked  Tony,  smiling 
a  little  at  his  protege's  agitation. 

"A  lot.  There's  just  been  a  faculty  meeting.  I 
have  heard  all  about  it — it  doesn't  matter  how — but 
all  about  it!  and  the  Doctor  put  you  up  for  Head 


252  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Prefect — and  said  all  manner  of  fine  things  about 
you — all  the  masters  were  there  and  they  were  all 
going  to  vote  for  you — when  Roylston — curse  him! — 
got  up  and  told  about  The  Spectacle,  and  read  them 
that  copy  of  it  he  stole  from  me,  and  when  he  got 
through  he  said  he'd  give  up  his  job  here  if  you  were 
made  Head  Prefect — and  there  was  a  lot  of  gas — and 
the  Doctor  broke  up  the  meeting — and  said  he'd 
talk  it  over  with  Roylston.  And  then  he  went  off. 
And  I  don't  know  what's  going  to  happen." 

''Here,  here!  what's  all  this,"  exclaimed  Tony, 
as  Finch  paused  for  breath.  "You're  crazy,  Jake. 
Somebody's  been  telling  you  a  fairy  story  to  get  you 
excited." 

"No,  I  am  not  crazy,"  Jake  replied.  "I  tell  you 
I  know  all  about  it." 

"Well,  what  the  dickens  is  it?  Say  it  over,  will 
you?  " 

Finch  repeated,  this  time  more  accurately,  all 
that  he  had  overheard.  "He's  trying  to  queer  you," 
he  concluded,  "that's  what!  and  he  may  do  it,  if  we 
don't  do  something." 

"Jake,  I  say  you  are  off  your  head.  In  the  first 
place,  I  can't  imagine  the  Gumshoe  hating  me  quite 
hard  enough  for  that,  and,  in  the  second,  I'm  blamed 
sure  the  thing  has  got  twisted  in  being  reported  to 
you." 

"It  didn't — I  heard  it — about  it,  I  mean — I  can't 
tell  you  who  told  me." 

"Well,  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  it,"  said  Tony, 
turning  as  if  to  leave.  But  Finch  sprang  forward, 
and  put  his  hand  on  Tony's  arm. 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  253 

"I  take  a  lot  of  stock  in  it,  I  tell  you.  If  you  don't 
do  something,  you  won't  get  it." 

Tony  wheeled  around,  his  face  blazing  with  sudden 
anger,  "What  do  you  think  I  could  do?  Do  you 
suppose  I'd  turn  my  hand  to  get  the  thing?  I'd  cut 
it  off  first.  I  haven't  asked  to  be  Head  Prefect,  and 
I  don't  intend  to  ask  to  be,  you  poor  fool." 

Finch  scarcely  winced  before  Tony's  anger.  And 
indeed  it  was  gone  as  quickly  as  it  came,  almost 
before  Deering  had  finished  speaking. 

''Don't  you  want  the  place?"  Finch  asked,  with 
a  kind  of  wail  of  disappointment. 

''Why,  yes,  of  course,  I  want  it,"  answered  Tony, 
"but  haven't  you  got  sense  enough  to  see,  that  it 
isn't  a  thing  a  decent  chap  could  work  for,  much  less 
ask  for?  Did  you  think  I'd  go  over  to  the  Doctor 
and  tell  him  that  I  think  he  had  better  appoint  me 
and  let  the  Gumshoe  go?  I  shouldn't  care  very  much 
if  he  did  go,  but, — ^who  told  you  about  the  meeting 
any  way?  I  can't  see  why  you  shouldn't  tell  me. 
Was  it  a  fellow?" 

"No—" 

"A  member  of  the  faculty?  not  Bill?  he  wouldn't 
tell  a  thing  like  that." 

"No — Idunno." 

"Yes,  you  do — did  you  promise ?" 

"No — I — I — happened  to  hear  some  of  the  faculty 
talking." 

"Hear— where?" 

"  On  the  campus." 

"Overhear,  you  mean?" 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  so." 


254  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

** Where  were  the  masters  you  heard  talking?" 
Tony  was  putting  his  questions  now  rapidly  and  with 
intention,   for  he  had  become  suddenly  suspicious. 

"  In  the  common-room,"  Finch  answered,  beginning 
to  shake  nervously  again. 

''Where  were  you?  " 

"Outside." 

''How  could  you  hear  all  that  outside?  By  Jove, 
man,  you  were  under  the  window  listening?"  Tony's 
voice  took  on  a  sharp  note  of  contempt. 

Finch  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf. 

"Answer  me!"  demanded  Tony.  "You  weren't 
trying  to  hear,  were  you?" 

No  reply.    Poor  Jake  moistened  his  dry  lips. 

"Pah!"  exclaimed  Deering.  "So  the  fellows  are 
right,  are  they?  you  are  a  sneak?"  He  turned  away 
in  disgust,  and  started  across  the  room.  His  hand  was 
on  the  knob  of  the  door,  when  Finch  threw  himself 
in  his  way,  and  grasped  him  tightly  again  by  the  arm. 

"For  God's  sake,  Deering,"  he  cried  in  a  queer 
cracked  voice,  "don't  throw  me  over.  You  are  the 
only  friend  I've  got.  Don't  throw  me  over.  I  did 
it  for  your  sake.    God  knows  I  did." 

Tony  stopped.  He  was  appalled  and  bewildered 
by  the  passion  in  poor  Finch's  voice  and  attitude. 
He  turned  back  at  last,  and  thrust  Finch  a  little 
roughly  onto  the  couch.  "Sit  down  there,"  he  said 
gruffly.  "I  guess  I'd  better  have  it  all  out  of  you 
right  now." 

"Yes,  yes,  I'll  tell  you  everything,"  whimpered 
Finch.    "Don't  throw  me  over." 

"Shut  up,  and  stop  blubbering  like  a  kid.    I  won't 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  255 

throw  you  over.  But  just  at  present  I'm  mighty 
disgusted  with  you,  I  reckon  you  know." 

Finch  drew  his  coat  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and  caught 
a  sob  or  so  in  his  throat.  ''I'll  tell  you  everything," 
he  said,  with  a  sniffle,  ''just  wait  a  second." 

"All  right.  And  mind  you  do  tell  everything, 
if  you  ever  want  me  to  trust  you  an  inch  beyond  my 
nose  again,"  answered  Tony.  He  suspected  there 
was  a  good  deal  to  tell;  in  the  last  few  moments  a 
multitude  of  Uttle  incidents  flashed  into  his  mind;  all 
were  accounted  for  if  Finch  was  a  sneak. 

"I  know  it  was  rotten,  Deering,"  began  Finch, 
"but  I  couldn't  seem  to  help  it." 

"Now  cut  that  sort  of  excuse  out.  Don't  try  to 
defend  it.    Just  tell  the  truth,  will  you?" 

"Well,  I  was  sitting  in  the  hbrary  reading,  and 
the  Doctor  passed  through,  and  stopped  a  minute  and 
spoke  to  me,  and  told  me  not  to  say  anything  about 
the  letter  he  wrote  me  last  summer  in  which  he  had 
mentioned  you  as  the  leader  of  the  school.  He  said 
the  appointment  wasn't  made  yet." 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that's  all,  but  I  saw  him  go  into  the  Masters' 
room,  and  I  guessed  they  were  going  to  have  a  meet- 
ing to  discuss  that  very  thing.  It  flashed  into  my  head 
that  something  was  up;  that  something  had  gone  wrong 
about  your  getting  it.  I  couldn't  help — I  swear  to 
you  I  couldn't  help  sneaking  outside  and  trying  to 
hear.  The  windows  were  up,  and  I  could  hear  al- 
most everything  that  was  said  inside.  As  I  said,  the 
Doctor ." 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more  about  that," 


256  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

interrupted  Tony,  ''I'm  not  an  eavesdropper.  I 
don't  give  a  continental  darn  what  you  heard.  If  I 
don't  get  it — all  right.  If  Roylston's  queered  me, 
that's  his  business,  I  guess.  He  may  think  he  has  a 
right  to.  Maybe  he  has.  But  just  at  present,  what 
I  am  trying  to  make  you  see  is  that  what  went  on  in 
the  faculty  room  isn't  your  business  nor  my  business, 
and  that  to  sneak  and  listen  like  that  is  low-down." 

Finch,  poor  chap,  did  not  fully  understand  what 
Tony  was  driving  at.  ''AH  right,  I  guess  it  is,"  he 
said,  with  a  bewildered  air,  "but  I  thought " 

"I  don't  care  what  you  thought,"  said  Tony. 
"Do  you  see  that  was  the  act  of  a  sneak?  You  called 
Roylston  a  sneak  earlier  this  evening — well,  whether 
he  ever  did  a  sneaky  thing  or  not,  you  have  just  done 
one,  see?" 

"Yes,  I  see,  of  course,  I  see;  but ." 

"Well,  if  you  see,  all  right.  Now  there's  something 
else  I  want  to  get  at.  I  want  to  know  in  what  other 
ways  you've  been  sneaky  around  school.  Did  you 
tell  the  Head  that  you  had  already  told  me  about 
this  letter?" 

"No." 

"Did  he  ask  you?" 

"No — not  exactly — but  I  s'pose  he  thought  I 
hadn't  from  my  manner." 

"I  see.  Well  let's  settle  one  or  two  other  things, 
Jake.  Remember  the  time  that  Kit  Wilson  kicked 
you  out  of  his  room  last  spring?  " 

"Yes,"    Finch  was  whiter  than  ever. 

"Well,  was  it  true — no,  I  mean,  was  Kit  right — 
did  you  go  there  to  rough-house  his  room  that  night?  " 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  257 

"Yes,"  breathed  Finch. 

"Had  you  been  rough-housing  his  room  and  desk 
before,  as  he  thinks  you  had?" 

"Yes." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Tony  "And  you 
Hed  to  me!  You  let  me  quarrel  with  Kit,  just  because 
I  thought  you  were  innocent  and  that  he  had  been 
hard  on  you  and  unfair!  You  let  me  lose  one  of  my 
very  best  friends,  just  because — by  Jove,  I  don't 
understand  you.    It's  too  rotten  bad." 

"For  God's  sake,  Deering,"  whimpered  Finch, 
"don't  throw  me  over!"  and  then  sat,  biting  the  tips 
of  his  fingers. 

Tony,  wavering  between  anger,  disgust  and  pity, 
could  scarcely  trust  himself  to  speak. 

At  last  he  asked,  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me  the 
truth  that  night  when  I  asked  you?  Kit  and  I  had 
already  quarreled,  but  if  I  had  known  then  what  you 

had  done  to  him,  we  could Why  didn't  you  tell  me 

the  truth?" 

"I  was  afraid  you'd  throw  me  over." 

Tony  shuddered  with  an  uncontrollable  feeling  of 
repulsion.  "Why  did  you  want  to  play  such  low 
tricks  on  Kit?" 

"I  hated  him." 

"Why?  Because  he  opposed  your  getting  into  the 
Dealonian?" 

"No,  no,  not  that!"  exclaimed  Finch  passionately. 
"I  didn't  want  to  get  into  the  Dealonian." 

' *  Then,  why? ' '    Tony  was  nonplussed. 

"Because  he  had  broke  with  you." 

At  last  to  his  humiliation — it  dawned  on  Tony, 


258  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  depth,  the  tragedy,  of  Finch's  affection;  the 
complexity  of  his  twisted,  dwarfed  nature;  and  anger 
and  contempt  were  swallowed  up  in  pity.  He  stood 
for  a  long  time  before  the  miserable  lad  without 
speaking. 

"Well,  Jake,"  he  said  at  length,  ''it  is  pretty  bad — 
awful  bad.    I  just  hate  to  think  of  it." 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  Finch  piteously. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  can  do.  I  want  to  think 
it  all  out  before  I  talk  with  you  any  more.  But  if 
I  were  you  I'd  get  down  on  my  knees  and  ask  God 
to  forgive  me."  Tony  again  put  his  hand  on  the  door- 
knob. "I  am  going.  I  have  got  to  think  it  out. 
I  reckon  you  can  see  that  you  have  been  the  cause  of 
a  lot  of  trouble.  Don't  worry  about  me,  though.  I 
won't  throw  you  over  in  the  way  you  think  I  might. 
But  I  can't  talk  about  it  any  more  now.    Good-night." 

"Good-night,"  said  Finch,  with  a  gulp. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  on  the  edge  of  his  couch  with 
his  face  in  his  hands,  staring  blankly  in  front  of  him. 
The  world  upon  which  his  soul  looked  out  was  as  bare, 
as  comfortless  as  his  little  room.  He  was  dumbly 
miserable.  He  knew  he  had  hurt  Deering,  but  just 
how,  he  could  not  see.  The  fear  that  possessed  him 
chiefly  was  that  Deering  would  throw  him  over.  ' '  And 
I  did  it  because  of  him,"  he  would  say  now  and  then 
between  his  clenched  teeth.  He  could  not  understand 
Tony's  horror  of  the  deceit,  he  could  not  fathom  his 
unwillingness  to  take  advantage  of  the  information 
which  he  himself  had  risked  so  much  to  obtain. 
He  knew  of  course  that  he  had  done  a  wicked  thing, 
but  the  wickedness  seemed  almost  justified  because 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  259 

the  temptation  had  been  so  strong.  He  was  sorriest 
about  Wilson.  As  for  the  eavesdropping — when  he 
thought  of  that,  he  clenched  his  fists.  If  Roylston 
were  successful !  I  may  be  a  sneak,  he  thought,  but  so 
is  he.  All  was  fair  in  war — and  if  Tony  didn't  get 
the  Head  Prefectship,  whatever  Tony  might  say  or 
feel,  war  it  should  be.  ''I'll  show  him,"  he  muttered, 
conjuring  up  the  vision  of  Mr.  Roylston  reading  The 
Spectacle  to  his  colleagues.  ''If  he  queers  Deering, 
I'll  get  even  with  him  whatever  happens!" 

When  Tony  returned  to  Number  Five  study  he 
found  that  the  boys  had  left  and  that  Jimmie  had 
gone  to  bed.  He  undressed  slowly,  trying  to  think 
out  the  situation.  Of  course,  he  had  misjudged  Finch 
almost  from  the  first,  he  realized  that.  The  others 
were  right.  He  was  a  difficult  case,  too  difficult  for 
a  place  like  Deal.  He  could  not  have  believed,  had 
he  not  heard  it  from  the  boy's  own  lips,  that  he  could 
stoop  to  such  methods  for  revenge.  But  there  it  was! 
He  had  an  actual  situation  to  deal  with;  a  living  soul, 
just  so  tempted,  so  weak,  so  corrupted  by  misery, 
to  help  or  hurt  now  by  fresh  judgments,  which  might 
be  right  or  wrong.  That  he  had  been  too  generous 
before  toward  Finch,  was  no  reason,  however,  with 
Tony,  even  for  a  moment,  why  he  should  be  ungener- 
ous now.  He  must  do  his  best.  He  hoped  Finch  would 
be  willing  for  him  to  talk  it  all  over  with  Mr.  Morris. 

After  a  time,  as  he  lay  in  bed,  sleepless  and  still 
feverishly  thinking,  his  attention  wandered  from 
Finch  to  his  own  case,  to  the  facts,  that,  much  as 
he  wished  to  close  his  mind  to  them,  were  very  much 
there.     It  was  hard  to  believe  that  Mr.   Roylston 


260  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

was  so  bitterly  hostile,  so  absolutely  unforgiving.  His 
own  conscience  had  long  ceased  from  troubling  him 
about  The  Spectacle,  and  he  wondered  if  the  Head 
could  take  Mr.  Roylston's  point  of  view.  He  had 
forgiven  himself  in  that  matter  so  completely,  that 
he  could  hardly  realize  how  it  still  rankled  with  the 
offended  master,  how  it  might  impress  others.  At 
last  he  fell  asleep,  quite  assured  that  things  would 
right  themselves  and  confident  that  on  the  morrow 
he  would  learn  that  he  had  been  appointed  Head 
Prefect. 

He  saw  Finch  in  the  morning  on  the  way  to  Chapel, 
and  tried  to  greet  him  naturally.  Finch  seemed 
stolid,  unresponsive,  but  not  keenly  conscious,  as 
Tony  had  supposed  he  would  appear,  of  what  had 
taken  place  between  them  the  night  before. 

Finch  had  spent  a  sleepless  night.  But  now  he  had 
set  his  teeth  and  was  waiting.  He  was  staking  his 
all,  as  it  were,  on  the  Head  proving  fair  as  he  called 
it  to  himself.  He  was  staking  his  reform,  his  remorse, 
his  repentance  on  the  issue  which,  beyond  his  control 
now  by  fair  means  or  foul,  depended  on  the  Head. 

The  morning  hymn  was  ''I  need  Thee  every  hour," 
and  Finch  joined  in  it.  He  dumbly  felt  he  was  willing 
to  bribe  heaven  to  gain  his  end.  He  looked  about  the 
Chapel,  and  noted  that  Mr.  Roylston  was  not  present, 
and  his  heart  leaped  with  the  thought  that  the  master 
had  lost  his  case,  perhaps  even.  Finch  passionately 
hoped,  the  Head  had  accepted  his  resignation.  He 
tried,  but  he  could  not  listen  to  the  reading  of  the 
scriptures  and  the  prayers.  Then  the  Grace  was  said, 
and  the  boys  were  settling  back  in  their  seats  into 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  261 

attitudes  of  attention,  for  the  Doctor  was  still  at  the 
reading-desk  as  if  he  had  something  to  say  to  them. 

''There  is  still" — the  Doctor's  voice  seemed  to  Finch 
to  come  from  a  great  distance — "  there  is  still  an 
important  appointment  to  be  announced.  The  Head 
Prefect  for  the  year  wdll  be " 

There  was  a  slight  disturbance  in  the  back  of  the 
Chapel — some  one  had  dropped  a  hymn-book,  and 
the  Doctor  paused,  it  seemed  to  Finch  for  an  intoler- 
able age. 

"Edward  Austin  Clavering  of  the  Sixth  Form." 

Immediately  there  was  a  little  buzz;  then  the  boys 
began  pouring  out  of  the  Chapel.  Finch  sat  still. 
Outside  he  heard  Doc  Thorn  calling  for  a  cheer  for 
Clavering.  At  last,  he  pulled  himself  together  and 
went  out.  On  the  gravel  walk  boys  were  stiU  congre- 
gated; he  passed  Tony  who  was  shaking  hands  at 
the  moment  with  Ned  Clavering.  "I  say,  Jake; 
wait  a  second!"  Tony  called,  catching  sight  of  him; 
but  Finch,  making  no  sign  that  he  had  heard,  bent 
his  head  and  hurried  on. 

Jimmie  Lawrence,  however,  was  waiting  for  Tony 
until  with  good  grace  he  had  finished  his  congratula- 
tions to  Clavering.  A  good  many,  as  they  poured 
out  of  the  Chapel  that  morning,  watched  with  curious 
interest  the  meeting  between  the  successful  and  the 
unsuccessful  candidate.  But  from  Tony's  manner, 
the  most  critical  could  not  have  imagined  a  shade 
of  envy  in  his  cordiality. 

"It  is  a  downright  shame!"  exclaimed  Jimmie, 
when  at  last  Tony  joined  him.  "It  is  an  outrage. 
I  can't  understand  it — why — I" 


262  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Careful,  Jim,  careful.  Deuce  take  it,  I  do  feel  a 
bit  sore,  but  then  I  reckon  Ned  Clavering  has  as  good 
a  right  to  it  as  I  have." 

"Perhaps  he  has,  other  things  being  equal;  but  they 
are  not  equal.  You  were  nominated,  the  school 
wanted  you,  everybody  expected  you  would  get  it: 
there  is  not  a  single  reason  why  you  shouldn't  have 
it." 

"Perhaps  there  is,"  protested  Tony.  "We've  all 
been  in  scrapes  now  and  then.  We  weren't  always 
the  angels  we  are  now,  Jim." 

"Likely  not,  but  I  notice  they  didn't  hold  up  my 
ante-angelic  days  against  me.  Why,  you  aren't  even 
a  prefect,  do  you  know  it?" 

"By  Jove,  I'm  not,  am  I?"  exclaimed  Deering. 
That  fact  until  then  had  not  occurred  to  him. 

"There's  something  fishy  behind  it,  mark  my  words. 
I  wish  we  could  find  out  what  it  is." 

"Perhaps  we  shall,"  said  Tony.  "But  anyhow,  I'm 
not  going  into  a  grouch  over  the  affair." 

"Nobody  wants  you  to,  but  I  wish  you  would  show 
a  little  more  sense  of  the  rotten  way  you  have  been 
treated.  By  Jove,  Tonio,  I  have  it!  it's  the  Gum- 
shoe!" 

Tony  found  no  answer  to  this  exclamation,  but 
Jimmie,  excited  by  his  theory,  did  not  wait  for  one. 
"D'ye  remember  Reggie  Carroll  telUng  us  that  the 
Gumshoe  would  get  even?" 

"When?" 

"Why,  after  the  show-up  he  got  when  you  and 
Kit  licked  Ducky  Thornton  and  he  took  you  two  to 
the  Head  for  breaking  his  gating.    And  also  after  the 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  263 

time  Gumshoe  soured  on  you  about  the  Soft-toed 
Sammy  billet-doux." 

"Yes,  I  remember  something  of  the  sort.  Perhaps 
he  is  responsible.  But  anyway,  kiddo,  I^m  dished, 
and  that's  a  fact." 

''Oh,  that  Kit  was  one  of  us  now,  boy;  wouldn't 
we  get  even?" 

Tony  sighed.    ''I  reckon  we  would.    But  he  isn't!" 

"No,  worse  luck!    I  wish " 

What  Jimmie  wished  was  left  unsaid,  for  at  that 
moment  Doctor  Forester  caught  up  with  them,  and 
called  to  Deering.  "Will  you  please  stop  at  the 
Rectory,  Anthony,  for  a  few  moments?  I  want  a 
word  with  you." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Tony  and  waited  for  the  Head, 
as  Jimmie,  with  a  "So  long,"  hurried  on  to  a  first 
hour  recitation. 

The  Doctor  was  very  cordial  in  his  manner  to  Tony, 
and  waved  him  to  a  comfortable  chair  in  his  study 
before  he  opened  his  conversation. 

"I  dare  say,"  he  began,  "that  you,  as  were  others, 
were  somewhat  surprised  to  learn  who  is  to  be  Head 
Prefect  this  year." 

Tony  flushed  and  looked  uncomfortable. 

"I  do  not  mean,"  went  on  the  Head  quickly,  "to 
suggest  that  you  had  no  occasion  for  surprise.  It  is 
an  open  secret,  I  fancy,  that  you  were  slated  for  the 
position." 

"Of  course,"  said  Tony,  with  some  embarrassment, 
"I  had  some  reason  to  suppose  that  I  was  being  con- 
sidered." 

"More  than  that,  I  am  frank  to  say,"  continued 


264  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

the  Doctor,  "I  had  quite  determined  on  your  appoint- 
ment. I  wish  you  to  understand  that  I  changed  my 
mind  strictly  with  the  understanding  that  the  reasons 
for  the  change  should  be  thoroughly  explained  to  you." 

''Yes,  sir." 

"I  wish  you  to  know  that  there  is  but  one  reason 
why  I  have  not  chosen  you  for  Head  of  the  School. 
The  mild  or  mischievous  infractions  of  discipline  in 
your  younger  days,  I  do  not  take  into  account.  You 
were  concerned,  I  have  learned,  in  fact,  you  were  the 
author  of  a  squib  in  which  one  of  the  senior  masters 
was  held  up  to  ridicule." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,"  continued  the  Head,  finding  it  a  little 
hard  to  word  his  phrases  exactly,  "I  agree  with  Mr. 
Roylston,  the  master  so  caricatured,  that  that  was 
most  reprehensible.  I  do  not  suppose  you  have 
any  defense  for  it." 

"None,  sir.  I  can  only  say,  while  I  now  see  how  it 
was  calculated  to  be  taken  as  an  insult,  I  did  it  simply 
for  fun." 

"Precisely.  It  was  not  a  matter  that  I  myself, 
taking  all  things  into  consideration,  should  have 
regarded  as  a  capital  crime,  but  it  has  caused  deep 
offense  to  the  master  involved  and  he  has  not  seen 
his  way  to  forgetting  or  perhaps  even  to  forgiving  it. 
In  fact,  because  of  it,  he  has  protested  emphatically 
against  your  appointment." 

"Yes,  sb." 

"I  repeat,  I  should  myself  have  overlooked  such 
an  offense — I  should  have  accepted  your  apology 
in  the  spirit  in  which  I  think  it  was  given.    But  as 


THE  RESULT  OF  THE  PROTEST  265 

Mr.  Roylston  is  unwilling  to  do  so,  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  should  be  justified  in  overruling  his  protest. 
The  same  reason  disqualified  you  as  a  prefect." 

Tony  was  silent. 

"I  need  not  point  out  to  you,"  the  Doctor  continued, 
"that  while  I  believe  Mr.  Roylston  is  severe,  that  I 
do  not  think  he  is  acting  with  any  conscious  injustice." 

"No,  sir.  I  recognize  his  right  to  protest  against 
my  appointment.  I  have  not  complained  of  your 
decision,  sir." 

"No,  I  know  that  you  have  not.  I  felt  it  due  to  you 
that  you  should  understand  perfectly  what  interfered 
with  your  appointment.  I  know  also  that  I  can  count 
on  you  for  as  loyal  help  as  though  you  were  a  prefect." 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  what  you  have  said 
to  me,  Doctor  Forester.  I  appreciate  it.  I  am  very 
sorry  that  I  hurt  Mr.  Roylston  in  the  way  I  did. 
Of  course — I  don't  say  this  as  a  defense  for  writing 
what  I  did — I  did  not  mean  it  to  come  under  his 
eyes.  I  apologized  sincerely,  and  though  I  know 
that  Mr.  Roylston  did  not  believe  in  my  sincerity, 
I  can  see  perhaps  that  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  do  so. 
As  for  my  being  loyal,  I  can't  see  that  this  makes 
the  slightest  difference  one  way  or  the  other.  I  should 
like  to  have  been  Head  Prefect,  but  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  being  chosen  except  for  my  election  as 
president  of  the  Dealonian  and  my  nomination  by 
last  year's  prefects.  I  think  Clavering  will  make  a 
fine  Head  of  the  School." 

"I  trust,"  said  Doctor  Forester,  "that  you  will 
not  bear  ill-will  toward  Mr.  Roylston.  He  is  acting 
from  conscientious  motives,  I  am  sure." 


266  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"I  shall  try  not  to,  sir." 

With  that  Tony  rose,  shook  hands  with  the  Head 
Master,  and  took  his  leave. 

Doctor  Forester  watched  him  as  he  walked  across 
the  campus,  at  a  brisk  pace,  head  up,  shoulders  back. 
"There,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  wife  who  had  just 
slipped  into  the  room,  'Hhere  goes  a  rare  boy,  my  dear. 
He  has  made  it  harder  for  me  to  do  my  duty  than  any 
one  I  have  ever  known." 

"Tony  Deering  make  it  hard  for  anyone  to  do  his 
duty!  Why,  my  dear,  did  you  not  appoint  him  Head 
Prefect?  Every  one  wanted  him;  every  one  expected 
that  he  would  be." 

"All  but  one  of  us,  dear,  who  had  a  strong,  if  not 
a  fine  reason,  for  objecting  to  him;  but  I  would  rather 
not  go  into  it,  if  you  do  not  mind.  Mark  my  words, 
that  boy  now  is  the  strongest  boy  in  the  school — all 
the  stronger  for  not  having  the  position  he  ought  to 
have." 

Mrs.  Forester  smiled.  "That  is  a  comfort,  at  least, 
to  know.  But  I  tell  you,  Henry,  if  we  women  had  the 
appointment  to  make,  it  would  take  more  than  one 
strong  reason  to  prevent  our  giving  Tony  Deering 
anything  he  ought  to  have." 

"Well,  it  is  fortunate  then,  my  dear,  that  you 
women  have  other  things  to  do." 


CHAPTER  XX 
finch's  hour 

For  our  friends  the  incident  was  closed.  Jimmie 
took  his  seat  in  the  prefect  meetings  on  Sunday 
nights  and  solemnly  assisted,  with  increasing  interest, 
in  ''running  the  school,"  as  the  members  of  those 
conclaves  were  accustomed  to  term  their  labors.  Tony 
acquiesced  in  the  inevitable  with  a  good  grace,  and 
beyond  discussing  the  matter  in  its  various  aspects, 
with  Jimmie  and  to  some  extent  with  Mr.  Morris, 
who  was  handicapped  in  expressing  his  opinion  by 
professional  loyalty,  he  kept  his  mouth  shut. 

Others  did  not.  Decisions  of  such  a  nature,  im- 
portant to  the  life  of  a  school,  are  rarely  long  kept 
secret.  And  in  this  instance,  the  Head  Master  did 
not  resent  the  facts  being  known,  though  he  himself 
of  course  maintained  an  absolute  reserve.  The  facts 
were  known  sooner  or  later,  and  with  a  fair  degree 
of  accuracy.  And  the  knowledge  increased  neither 
Mr.  Roylston's  popularity  nor  his  peace  of  mind. 
Indeed  he  found  himself  increasingly  unable  to  extract 
comfort  from  the  reflection  that  a  deserved  punish- 
ment had  been  fearlessly  administered  or  that  in 
being  just  he  was  as  wise  as  if  he  had  also  been  mer- 
ciful. During  that  term  Mr.  Roylston  had  many 
bad  quarters  of  an  hour. 

267 


268  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

As  for  Tony,  as  Doctor  Forester  had  predicted, 
the  loss  of  the  Head  Prefectship  added  to  rather  than 
diminished  from  his  strength  among  his  schoolmates. 
He  became,  quite  naturally  and  spontaneously,  the 
unofficial  adviser  of  the  prefect  body,  and  particularly 
of  Clavering,  who  made  a  point  of  consulting  him 
upon  all  important  matters  that  came  to  the  prefects' 
notice.  The  effect  of  this  generosity  on  Clavering's 
part  was  to  reveal  the  two  boys  to  each  other  and  to 
establish  a  firm  friendship  between  them. 

Clavering  was  a  heavy,  solid,  serious-minded  boy, 
of  a  mighty  frame  and  muscle,  but  slow,  patient  and 
cautious  in  his  thought  and  emotions.  Until  Tony 
had  become  fairly  intimate  with  him,  he  had  never 
appreciated  his  classmate's  deep  and  earnest  character; 
just  as  Clavering,  until  he  got  behind  Tony's  light- 
hearted  genial  pleasantness  of  manner  and  speech, 
had  not  realized  that  there  was  anything  there  worth 
while, — any  seriousness  of  purpose,  soundness  of 
feeling,  or  loyalty  to  principle.  He  had  taken  Tony 
superficially,  and  was  surprised  in  the  course  of  the 
term  to  find  how  much  he  had  grown  to  like  him; 
how  much,  too,  he  was  depending  on  Tony's  judg- 
ment and  feeling  in  the  various  matters  with  which 
the  Head  Prefect  in  a  large  school  may  have  to  deal. 

"I'm  slow;  you're  quick,"  he  said  to  Tony  one 
night.  "I'm  fairly  sure,  I  suppose,  when  I  make  up 
my  mind, — but  it  takes  me  the  deuce  of  a  long  time 
to  see  things  straight.  You  seem  to  see  into  a  situa- 
tion, to  know  a  fellow,  right  off." 

"Well,  I  dare  say  I'm  quick,  but  I  make  lots  of 
mistakes,  you  know,"  laughed  Tony,  pleased  with  the 


FINCH'S  HOUR  269 

compliment,  especially  coming  from  a  boy  who  never 
paid  them. 

"They  don't  seem  to  count  for  much  then,"  was 
Clavering's  reply.  He  forgot  that  one  of  Tony's 
mistakes  accounted  for  himself  rather  than  Tony 
being  the  Head  of  the  School. 

"That  is  more  comforting  as  a  general  proposition 
than  as  an  afterthought,"  said  Tony  ambiguously, 
and  turned  the  subject  of  conversation  to  football. 

In  this  field  Clavering  seemed  an  expert.  And  such 
indeed  he  proved  himself  again  on  the  gridiron  that 
fall,  for  Deal  turned  out  one  of  the  best  teams  that 
Jack  Stenton  could  remember,  and  that  was  paying 
it  very  high  praise.  They  won  all  their  games,  includ- 
ing the  one  with  Boxford  by  a  score  of  24  to  0,  which 
was  the  largest  on  record.  Clavering  was  a  tower  of 
strength  to  the  team,  and  Tony,  who  had  lost  nothing 
of  his  fleetness,  again  distinguished  himself  by  some 
brilliant,  if  not  quite  such  dramatic  runs  as  twice 
before  he  had  made. 

Before  the  boys  realized  it  the  football  season  was 
over,  and  the  Sixth  Form  were  looking  forward  to 
their  last  Christmas  vacation  of  school  days.  This 
time  Tony  took  Jimmie  Lawrence  to  Low  Deering 
with  him,  and  had  the  keen  pleasure  of  initiating  his 
best  friend  into  all  the  associations  and  delights  of 
his  home  and  country. 

The  Deering  fortunes  were  in  better  shape,  par- 
ticularly as  Victor  had  kept  his  promise,  and  was 
devoting  himself  with  industrious  zeal  to  the  planta- 
tion. The  old  general  took  a  great  fancy  to  Jimmie, 
particularly  he  found  a  bond  between  him  and  the 


270  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

boy  in  mutual  literary  tastes.  The  old  man  could 
not  lead  a  very  intellectual  life,  but  he  reverenced 
it  and  longed  for  it.  The  promise  of  Jimmie's  apprecia- 
tion and  powers  was  to  him  peculiarly  delightful.  The 
boys  had  a  capital  vacation,  so  that  they  were  sorry 
when  it  came  to  an  end  and  they  were  back  at  Deal 
again  for  the  long  winter  term. 

Since  his  confession  Finch  avoided  Deering.  He 
felt  self-conscious  about  his  sentimental  outbreak 
against  being  ''thrown  over."  Tony  certainly  had 
not  thrown  him  over,  but  he  did  not  see  his  way  to 
be  with  Finch  anything  more  than  persistently  patient 
and  kind.  Only  once  afterward  was  the  subject  of 
their  conversation  of  the  night  of  the  faculty-meeting 
reopened. 

"Of  course,  Jake,"  Tony  said,  "you  see,  just  as 
well  as  I  do,  how  absolutely  wrong  your  actions  were. 
I  am  going  to  leave  it  entirely  to  you  to  set  yourself 
right  with  Wilson — right  to  the  extent,  at  least,  of 
letting  him  know  that  you  are  sorry.  He  has  been 
mighty  decent  to  keep  quiet." 

"Oh,  he  hasn't  kept  quiet,"  Finch  rejoined  sullenly. 
"Most  of  your  crowd — of  his  crowd,  anyway,  know 
more  or  less  about  it.     I  have  seen  that  all  along." 

"Well,  perhaps  they  do;  I  have  not  heard  them 
speak  of  it  anyway.  Kit  can't  have  told  it  very  gen- 
erally, or  I  would  have  heard." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — not  after  the  row  you  had  with 
him  about  me.  They  all  like  you  too  much,  except 
Wilson,  to  give  you  a  chance  to  get  sore  again.  They 
don't  think  me  worth  bothering  about." 

"Well,  even  so — you  have  given  some  cause  for 


FINCH'S  HOUR  271 

that  attitude  now.  But  I  tell  you  what,  I  want  to 
get  right  with  Kit  again.  Not,  old  chap,  at  the  price 
of  throwing  you  over — don't  think  that! — but,  on 
the  other  hand,  I  don't  want  to  make  keeping  on  good 
terms  with  you  the  price  of  Kit's  friendship.  There 
isn't  need.  And  can't  you  see  that  I  cannot  be  the 
one  to  tell  Kit  the — to  tell  Kit  about  you?" 

Finch  did  not  see,  but  he  kept  silent.  He  appreciated 
neither  Tony's  deep  feeling  for  his  friend  nor  Tony's 
delicate  consideration  for  him.  He  was  thinking 
dolefully  of  just  how  miserable  and  unfortunate  and 
unlovable  he  was.  Yet,  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  in- 
tense famished  little  soul,  he  clung  to  Deering's  patient 
tolerance,  and  mutely  resolved  to  give  him  no  chance 
of  "fhnging  him  off."  But  as  for  going  to  Kit  with 
the  truth,  that  was  an  act  of  which  he  was  incapable, 
an  act  of  which  he  was  even  incapable  of  perceiving  the 
point. 

''I'm  just  worthless,  Deering,"  he  said  at  last 
miserably,  ''I'll  be  thankful  when  it's  all  over." 

"Now,  cut  that  out,  Jake.  Get  out  and  play  with 
somebody.  Don't  mope  round  all  the  time;  and  come 
in  often  and  see  us.    Jimmie  is  glad  to  have  you." 

"Thanks,"  said  Finch.  He  longed  to  open  again  the 
conversation  about  the  Head  Prefectship,  and  learn 
from  Tony  what  he  really  felt  about  that,  but  with 
dull  shame  for  his  baseness,  he  did  not  dare.  And  as 
for  Tony  that  was  a  subject  that  he  felt  he  never  could 
discuss  with  Finch  again. 

Time  drifted  on.  Finch  continued  to  worship 
Deering,  but  he  avoided  him  more  than  he  had  done 
before,  and  Uved  his  own  lonely,  unhappy  life,  as 


272  DEERING  OF  DEAL  ] 

many  a  boy  had  done  before  him  at  school,  with  all         i 
that  young  world  around  him,  gay,  spirited,  uncaring.         \ 
Morris  cared,  but  to  his  advances  Finch  proved  ada-         * 
mant.    As  the  term  advanced,  in  the  inevitable  dis- 
traction to  other  interests  and  pleasures,  it  was  only 
natural  that  the  attention  Tony  had  concentrated 
on  Finch  at  the  opening  of  the  term,  should  have         , 
slacked.    After  a  time,  growing  used  to  seeing  less  of 
him,  even  Tony  began  to  feel  that  Finch  was  getting 
on  well  enough,  and  ceased  for  the  most  part  to  worry 
about  him. 

Finch  had  not  forgotten  his  grudge  against  Mr.  Royl-  I 
ston,  but  rather  nursed  it  with  the  tenacity  of  such  ; 
a  nature,  and  took  a  gloomy  pleasure  in  planning 
from  time  to  time  impossible  schemes  of  revenge.  ] 
For  a  long  time  Deering's  tranquillity  with  regard  ^ 
to  the  Head  Prefectship  disarmed  Jacob.  It  was 
hard  to  resent  for  your  hero  what  he  himself  did  not  i 
resent.    But  he  nursed  his  grudge.  | 

It  happened  along  in  January  that  the  prefects 
had  occasion  to  deal  with  some  disciplinary  irregulari-  ; 
ties.  Being  governed  by  Clavering's  advice,  they  | 
frankly  mismanaged  the  case  and  involved  two  or  • 
three  boys  in  a  somewhat  unfair  predicament.  Claver-  i 
ing,  realizing  that  his  judgment  had  been  at  fault,  ' 

appealed  to  Deering,  who  had  the  good  luck  to  make  ; 
a  suggestion  that  speedily  set  matters  straight  and 
saved  the  school  from  rather  a  mess.  The  boys  talked 
over  the  affair  quite  generally,  and  as  often  happens,  ' 
they  criticised  Clavering  somewhat  sharply,  spoke  j 
indeed  more  harshly,  most  of  them,  than  they  really  ] 
felt.     Finch  overheard  a  discussion  of  the  incident         i 


FINCH'S  HOUR  273 

in  the  common-rooms  which  was  concluded  by  Teddy 
Lansing  affirming  rather  loudly  and  tactlessly,  "Well, 
it  was  a  rotten  roast  when  Deering  did  not  get  the 
Head  Prefectship  in  the  first  place.  Clavering  is 
a  blundering  old  cow." 

"That  it  was — a  rotten  roast!"  came  in  a  sharp 
staccato  from  a  near-by  corner.  Finch  had  spoken, 
impulsively,  and  quite  unusually  drawing  attention 
to  himself. 

"Yeaaaaa!  Yeaaaa!"  was  returned  in  full  chorus 
which  half  jeered  at  the  boy,  half  applauded  his 
sentiments. 

"Bully  for  you.  Pinch!"  shouted  Teddy.  "You 
stick  up  for  your  friend,  don't  you?" 

"Friend  or  no  friend,"  answered  Finch,  with  un- 
wonted boldness,  "it  was  a  roast.  He  was  cheated 
out  of  it." 

"Guess  he  was,"  agreed  another  boy.  "How'd 
it  come  about,  d'ye  know?" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Finch  answered,  "but  I'm  not 
saying." 

"Oh,  inside  information,  eh?" 

"If  you  want  to  call  it  that." 

"Who   from— Tony   Deering?" 

Finch  turned  to  his  questioner  with  a  vicious  snarl. 
"No,  it  wasn't  from  Tony  Deering.  He  don't  care. 
It  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  him,  but  it  makes 
a  lot  of  difference  to  the  school." 

"Well,  who  cooked  his  goose?" 

"Who  cooks  everybody's  goose?"  demanded  Finch. 

"Well, I  guess,  Pinch  my  boy, it  don't  need  a  prophet 
to  answer  that  question,"  Teddy  responded.    "Very 


274  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

likely  it  was  the  mild  and  gentle  Ebenezer  Gumshoe 
Roylston.  You're  right,  I  guess.  But  let  me  tell 
you/'  he  added,  as  he  pulled  Finch  aside,  ''Tony's 
the  last  person  in  the  world  who  would  thank  you 
for  discussing  his  affairs  in  a  crowd." 

Finch  suddenly  realized  the  truth  of  this  remark, 
hung  his  head,  and  sidled  away.  But  this  outbreak 
on  Tony's  behalf  had  excited  him.  It  brought  back 
all  the  old  hopes  and  fears,  the  old  pangs  of  disap- 
pointment and  chagrin,  and  renewed  his  rage  against 
Mr.  Roylston. 

Not  long  after  the  conversation  which  has  just 
been  reported,  the  mid-year  examinations  were  held. 
Finch,  who  still  had  difficulty  with  his  Latin,  had 
studied  particularly  hard,  and  had  practically  crammed 
by  heart  the  translation  of  several  difficult  passages 
from  Cicero's  Orations  upon  which  the  Sixth  Form 
were  to  be  examined.  As  soon  as  he  entered  the 
examination  room,  over  which  Mr.  Roylston  was 
presiding,  and  had  looked  over  his  paper,  noting  that 
two  of  the  passages  he  had  so  poled  up  were  on  it, 
he  quickly  wrote  them  out  on  a  separate  piece  of  paper, 
intending  to  write  them  into  his  examination  book 
at  his  leisure;  then  he  bent  laboriously  to  his  task 
of  working  out  the  paper. 

Mr.  Roylston,  an  argus-eyed  examiner,  eventually 
observed  from  his  desk  that  Finch  was  copying 
something  into  his  examination  book  from  a  detached 
slip  of  paper.  He  strolled  leisurely  and  softly  about 
the  room  and  advanced  down  the  aisle  where  Finch 
was  sitting  from  behind.  As  he  reached  the  boy, 
he  glanced  down  over  his  shoulder,  and  saw  what 


FINCH'S  HOUR  275 

he  was  doing.  He  suspected,  not  without  reason, 
that  Finch  was  not  strictly  honest  in  his  work,  and 
the  present  circumstance,  it  must  be  confessed,  had 
all  the  appearance  of  cheating. 

Without  warning  he  reached  over  Finch's  shoulder, 
and  took  the  examination  book  and  the  sheet  of  paper 
on  which  the  translated  passages  of  Cicero  were 
written  from  the  hands  of  the  astonished  and  fright- 
ened boy.  "You  may  leave  the  room,"  he  said,  ''and 
report  to  me  in  my  study  to-night  at  eight  o'clock." 

Finch  looked  up  at  him  wildly.  "What's  the 
matter?  What  are  you  doing  that  for?"  he  exclaimed 
excitedly. 

"You  understand  perfectly  well,"  the  master 
repUed  sharply.  "You  are  excused  from  this  exam- 
ination.   Leave  the  room!    Do  you  understand  me?" 

"No — !"  began  Finch,  flushing  crimson. 

'*Go!"  repeated  Mr.  Roylston,  pointing  to  the  door, 
heedless  of  the  excited  attention  of  the  boys  around. 

The  color  fled  from  Finch's  face  as  swiftly  as  it 
had  come.  He  rose,  threw  down  his  pencil,  and  dashed 
out  of  the  room.  Mr.  Roylston  folded  the  papers, 
and  then  composed  the  schoolroom  with  a  glance. 

Finch  was  not  seen  about  the  school  again  that 
day.  At  nightfall  he  returned  from  the  Woods  where 
he  had  taken  refuge,  bought  himself  a  bun  or  so  at 
the  Pie-house,  for  he  was  nearly  famished,  and  having 
thus  made  a  frugal  supper,  at  eight  o'clock  he  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Roylston's  study 
in  Howard  House. 

The  master  had  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  he  had 
detected  a  flagrant  case  of  cheating,  a  crime  that  was 


276  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

above  all  others  abominable  in  his  eyes.  He  bade 
Finch  enter,  when  he  heard  his  soft  knock  at  his  door, 
and  then  let  him  stand  awkwardly  a  moment  or  so 
while  he  examined  him  critically.  The  haggard  face, 
the  hunted  look,  seemed  to  him  those  of  a  criminal. 

"Ah!"  he  said  at  last,  "you  are  here." 

' '  Yes — I  am  here, ' '  Finch  answered  sullenly.  ' '  What 
do  you  want  with  me!" 

"Don't  forget  yourself.  Incidentally,  I  may  say, 
that  you  have  involved  yourself  in  an  excessive 
number  of  late  marks,  if  not  in  more  serious  trouble, 
by  your  prolonged  absence  to-day." 

"I'll  attend  to  that.    What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"In  the  first  place,  and  instantly,"  said  Mr.  Royl- 
ston  in  acid  tones,  "I  want  a  respectful  demeanor." 

Finch  bit  his  lips.  "I'm  sorry.  .  .  .  But  I'll 
take  what's  coming  to  me  for  being  away  to-day. 
You  told  me  to  report  to  you  at  eight  o'clock.  I  am 
here." 

"Yes,"  observed  the  master,  "you  are  here.  To 
come  to  the  point " 

"Yes,  yes, — why  did  you  take  my  examination 
book?" 

Mr.  Roylston  had  not  gauged  the  boy's  attitude 
as  yet.  He  supposed  he  would  lie — that  kind  of  a  boy 
usually  did.  He  sought  Finch's  weak  troubled  eyes 
with  a  piercing  glance.  "I  took  it,"  he  said,  in  a  cold 
judicial  voice,  "because  you  were  cheating." 

"I  was  not  cheating!"  Finch  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. 

Mr.  Roylston  smiled  patiently.  "The  evidence  is 
sufficiently  strong  as  scarcely  to  admit  of  mistake. 


FINCH'S  HOUR  277 

You  may  affect  to  deny  it;  but  I  tell  you  candidly, 
young  man,  I  have  suspected  you  before;  and  further, 
you  will  scarcely  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  have  very 
little  confidence  in  your  word." 

Finch  gulped.  "I  was  not  cheating!"  he  repeated, 
but  in  trembling  tones.  For  the  moment  despair 
got  the  better  of  the  determination  in  which  he  had 
come  to  keep  that  appointment.  He  had  cheated 
before.  A  wave  of  emotion  swept  over  him,  and  he 
swayed  for  a  moment  from  sheer  physical  weakness. 
What  difference  did  it  make?  he  felt.  He  did  not  care. 
A  wild  impulse  seized  him  to  tell  the  truth  boldly. 
He  would  tell  everything,  confess  everything,  but 
about  that  one  thing  he  would  be  believed.  It  was 
the  end,  he  knew ;  but  he  would  not  have  the  end  come 
and  himself  be  involved,  convicted,  of  what  was  not 
true.  There  was  enough  that  was.  The  master  was 
looking  at  him  coldly,  but  for  the  moment  was  saying 
nothing.  Finch  put  his  hand  out  to  a  near-by  table 
to  steady  himself. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Roylston,  a  gleam  of  triumph 
in  his  sharp  black  eyes,  "I  see  that  you  do  not  mean  to 
dispute  me." 

"Do  you  want  the  truth?"  cried  Finch,  meeting 
the  master's  eye  again  with  a  fierce  look. 

"Naturally." 

"Then  you  shall  have  it!" 

Finch  threw  back  his  head;  he  expanded  in  body 
and  soul;  and  kept  his  eyes  fastened  on  Mr.  Roylston's 
countenance  in  which  he  was  to  see  a  variety  of 
emotions  depicted  in  the  next  few  moments.  He 
felt  his  hour  was  come. 


278  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"You  shall  have  it!"  he  repeated,  moistening  his 
parched  lips. 

To  Mr.  Roylston's  fascinated  gaze,  the  boy  seemed 
transformed;  a  soul,  misshaped,  distorted,  hitherto 
utterly  abased,  had  risen  in  that  despised  body,  and 
was  leaping  forth  from  the  boy's  eyes  to  grapple 
with  his  own  soul.  He  had  a  sickening  sense  that  he 
was  about  to  pass  through  an  unseemly  scene,  the 
most  unseemly  and  disagreeable  scene  of  his  life, 
and  that  he  was  powerless  to  avert  it. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  repeated  Finch  again.  "I 
have  cheated — cheated — cheated — day  after  day — 
day  after  day.  And  I'll  tell  you  why.  Because,  slave 
as  I  would,  work  as  I  could  for  you,  I  never  got  one 
mark  of  credit,  one  word  of  praise,  one  syllable  of 
recognition  from  your  cold  hateful  mouth.  I  tried 
like  a  dog  to  do  my  best  for  you — it  was  poor,  but  it 
was  my  best!  but  it  was  no  use.  From  the  day  I 
got  to  this  place  you  have  hated  and  despised  me. 
Oh,  I  have  seen  it,  and  knew  it,  and  cursed  you, 
cursed  you  for  it.  You  wouldn't  let  yourself  be  fair. 
Do  you  know,  I've  lived  in  hell  in  this  school.  And 
at  last,  I  determined  to  cheat  you,  to  pay  you  back 
in  the  only  dirty  way  I  knew  how.  But  to-day,  some- 
thing— I  don't  know  what — it  wasn't  fear  of  you — 
something  made  me  honest.  The  paper  you  took  from 
me  I  had  written  out  from  memory  after  I  got  into 
the  room." 

"Stick  to  facts,"  said  the  master. 

"I  am  sticking  to  facts.  Believe  it  or  not-^it's 
true.  That's  true,  though  I  who  tell  it  am  a  cheat, 
and  a  liar  and  a  sneak.     I  have  been  all  that — not 


FINCH'S  HOUR  279 

because  I  was  made  that  way  or  wanted  to  be,  I 
don't  think,  but  because  I  couldn't  get  a  chance  to 
be  myself,  couldn't  get  a  show.  And  you — you  kept 
me  from  being  decent  as  much  as  anybody  else,  as 
much  as  the  biggest  bully  in  the  school.  You  want  me 
to  stick  to  facts.  All  right,  I'll  stick  to  'em.  I  have 
hated  you.  I  have  hated  you  so  that  many  a  time  I've 
wanted  to  kill  you.  And  because  I  couldn't  think 
of  any  way  to  fight  you  in  the  open,  I  have  been  low 
and  vile,  and  fought  you  in  the  dark.  You  thought 
Kit  Wilson  rough-housed  your  rooms  last  year, 
didn't  you?  That's  the  way  you  suspect  people  with- 
out evidence,  and  act  on  your  suspicions  and  can't 
hide  'em  when  you  don't  dare  to  act.  I  hate  Wilson 
too,  so  I  was  glad  when  you  thought  he  was  the  guilty 
one.  But  I  did  it,  I  tell  you.  I  rough-housed  your 
rooms  and  hid  your  papers  and  messed  up  your  desk 
drawers  and  books.  I  couldn't  stand  it.  I  can't 
stand  it  any  longer.  You'll  have  me  fired,  I  know 
that — and  I  don't  care.  But  for  once  in  your  life  you 
are  hearing  what  is  thought  of  you.  You're  hated, 
hated,  hated!" 

The  boy  paused  for  a  moment,  out  of  breath,  still 
clutching  the  table  desperately.  Mr.  Roylston  tried 
but  could  not  speak.  A  thousand  emotions  stung  him 
to  the  quick;  and  deep  within,  there  was  a  sense,  out- 
rageous as  was  this  attack,  that  he  was  at  the  bar  of 
an  avenging  justice,  paying  with  bitter  humiliation  for 
the  lack  of  charity  of  which  the  boy's  wild  words  con- 
victed him.  At  last  he  found  his  voice,  but  he  was 
still  under  the  spell  of  the  strange  situation. 

^'1  will  tolerate  this  extraordinary  conversation  a 


280  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

moment  longer.  Why  have  you  so  viciously  hated 
me?" 

"Why — ^because  you  are  cruel,"  cried  Finch,  re- 
covering himself,  "  because  you  are  pitiless,  because 
you  do  wicked,  unkind  things  in  the  name  of  jus- 
tice. Yes,  yes,  you  shall  have  it  all.  You  have 
never  given  me  one  chance,  and  you  were  glad — glad 
to-day  when  you  thought  you  had  caught  me  at  last. 
You  are  always  suspecting,  suspecting  evil — until 
at  last  your  suspicions  find  it  or  create  it.  You  have 
scared  me,  hurt  me,  hounded  me — I  don't  know  how 
you  do  it,  but  you  do  do  it — and,  thank  God,  you'll 
never  do  it  again.  Of  course,  you'll  have  me  fired  now, 
I  know  that,  and  I  don't  care.  And  I  deserve  to  be. 
I  ain't  fit  to  be  here.  But  it's  you  as  much  as  any- 
one else  that's  kept  me  from  being  fit.  I  am  just 
full  of  hate  and  malice.  Don't  I  know  it?  Don't 
I  suffer  from  it?" 

"Aside  from  my  severity — or  my  cruelty,  as  you 
are  pleased  to  call  it, — for  what  else  do  you  blame 
me?" 

"Above  all,"  cried  Finch,  and  a  note  of  exultation 
rang  in  his  voice,  "above  all  for  the  way  you've  treated 
Anthony  Deering.  I  know  him,  and  he  is  the  soul  of 
honor,  he  has  a  heart.  You  or  I  aren't  fit  to  unlace 
his  boots.  You  kept  him  from  getting  what  he  de- 
served— the  Head  Prefectship." 

"Deering  told  you  that? " 

"No,  Deering  didn't  tell  me  that.  Deering's  not 
that  sort,  don't  you  know  it,  can't  you  believe  it? 
He  isn't  a  sneak;  but  I  am;  and  I  listened  under  the 
windows  of  the  faculty  room  the  night  you  spoke 


FINCH'S  HOUR  281 

against  him,  the  first  night  of  this  year.  And  what  had 
he  done  against  you  except  what  half  the  fellows  do 
to  most  of  the  masters  more  or  less  all  the  time? 
But  you  wouldn't  forgive  him,  though  he  was  fool 
enough  to  be  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  for  making 
fun  of  you.  But  you  couldn't  be  kind.  I  listened — 
I  heard  it  all.  You  saved  that  paper,  and  bided  your 
time,  that's  what  you  did — waited  your  chance  to  get 
even.  Do  you  know  that  many  a  night  I've  laid  in 
bed  and  prayed  for  courage  to  get  up  and  come  over 
and  do  some  terrible  thing  to  you.  I've  actually 
wanted  to  kill  you.  But  I  don't  want  to  now.  The 
bitterest  medicine  you  can  take  is  to  have,  for  once 
in  your  life,  some  one  else,  though  it's  only  a  worthless 
rotten  chap  hke  me,  tell  you  to  your  face  that  you  are 
cruel  and  unkind  and  that  he  despises  you." 

At  last  Finch  stopped.  He  was  trembling  violently, 
his  cheeks  were  blazing,  his  eyes  feverish  and  wild, 
but  his  soul  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  triumph. 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Roylston  covered  his  face  with 
his  hand.  Then  he  rose  up  quickly,  master  of  himself 
again. 

''You  are  excited  and  irresponsible." 

"Vm.  excited,"  said  Finch,  ''but  I  know  perfectly 
well  what  I'm  saying." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Roylston,  "if  you  are  not 
suddenly  gone  insane,  you  must  leave  this  school  at 
once.  You  will  come  with  me  instantly  to  Doctor 
Forester." 

"  Oh,  I'm  ready  to  be  fired." 

Mr.  Roylston  made  no  reply,  but  opened  the  study 
door,  and  motioned  to  the  boy  to  follow  him.    They 


282  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

left  Howard  House  and  walked  rapidly  across  the 
quadrangle  to  the  Rectory.  It  was  a  warm  humid 
night,  after  a  week  of  intense  cold.  There  was  a  pale 
young  moon  in  the  western  sky. 

As  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  Rectory  steps, 
Finch  turned.     ''I'm  not  going  in,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Pardon  me,  you  are,  and  at  once." 

''I'm  not.  This  is  the  end.  I  am  done  with  it. 
I'm  going  to  chuck  it  all.  Say  what  you  please,  the 
time  for  browbeating,  scaring  me  is  gone.  I'm 
off." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  cried  the  master  in 
alarm. 

"It  doesn't  matter.  You  will  never  see  me  again." 
With  that  he  turned,  and  ran  rapidly  across  the  campus 
down  the  hill. 

Mr.  Roylston  strained  his  eyes  for  a  moment  after 
the  fleeing  figure,  then  ran  hastily  up  the  steps,  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Doctor's  study. 

Doctor  Forester  himself  opened  the  door,  and  drew 
the  agitated  master  within.  Deering,  Lawrence  and 
Clavering  were  sitting  before  the  study  fire.  They 
had  risen  and  were  standing. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  Head  quickly. 

Mr.  Roylston  forgot  the  boys'  presence.  "A  serious 
thing — a  very  serious  thing.  Finch,  just  now,  in  my 
study,  attacked  me  with  the  most  wanton,  intemperate 
abuse.  I  brought  him  to  you — but  here — at  the  very 
door  he  turned  and  fled.  ..." 

' '  Yes— fled— why— where?  " 

"It  is  very  serious,  I  think.  I  think  it  would  be 
better  if  these  boys  went  after  him  at  once.     I  fear 


FINCH'S  HOUR  283 

something  terrible  may  happen.  I  will  explain  later." 
He  sank  exhausted  into  a  chair. 

"Which  way  has  he  gone,  sir?"  asked  Tony. 

"Across  the  campus — down  the  hill.  Hurry,  Deer- 
ing,   hurry!   else   something   terrible   may   happen." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SELF-SACRIFICE 

It  was  a  warm  muggy  night.  A  pale  moon  shone 
dimly  through  the  mists,  and  the  buildings  of  the 
school  cast  long  shadows  across  the  campus,  giving 
a  weird  uncanny  effect  to  the  scene,  of  which  the  boys 
were  immediately  conscious  as  they  came  out  of  the 
Doctor's  study. 

They  waited  for  a  moment  outside,  straining  their 
eyes  for  a  sight  of  Finch.  Suddenly  Jimmie  discerned 
a  dark  figure  just  disappearing  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  "There  he  goes,"  he  cried,  ''over  the  hills  towards 
the  beach." 

"All  right — after  him!"  urged  Tony,  and  set  the 
pace  at  a  rapid  trot.  Lawrence  and  Clavering  kept 
close  behind. 

In  a  few  moments  they  had  reached  the  brow  of  the 
hill  over  which  Lawrence  had  seen  the  figure  disappear. 
They  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  about  them. 
Out  of  range  of  the  lights  of  the  school,  the  mists 
were  less  confusing  and  the  moonlight  more  effective. 
Tony  was  searching  the  beach  with  his  eyes.  "I 
can't  make  out  a  thing,"  he  said.  "Do  you  see  any- 
thing of  him,  Ned?  " 

"Not  a  thing,"  Clavering  answered.  "Are  you 
sure,  Jim,  you  saw  him  a  moment  ago?" 

"Dead  sure.    Look  there !  isn't  that  him? " 

284 


SELF-SACRIFICE  285 

''Where?" 

''Down  by  the  road — near  the  marshes."  He 
pointed  eagerly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Tony.  "Come  on.  He's  no 
good  at  running.  We  ought  to  catch  him  before  he 
reaches  the  Pond.  If  he  gets  to  the  Woods,  there's 
no  knowing  where  to  find  him." 

They  started  down  the  hill  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"He  would  have  to  go  round  the  Pond  to  get  into 
the  Woods,"  said  Clavering  as  they  ran.  "The  ice 
is  rotten;  he  can't  cross  the  Pond.  So  let's  go  to  the 
north  and  cut. him  off." 

"You  do  that,  Ned,"  suggested  Tony.  "Cut  in 
at  the  farmhouse  by  the  head  of  the  Pond;  Jim  and 
I  will  keep  right  on.  He  may  never  stop  to  think  that 
the  ice  has  gone  rotten." 

"All  right.  Look,  he's  slowing  up."  They  could 
see  with  fair  distinctness. 

Finch,  for  it  was  he,  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill. 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  seeming  to  hesitate  between 
the  Old  Beach  Road  and  the  path  across  the  marshes; 
and  apparently  chose  the  latter,  for  he  crossed  the  road, 
and  climbed  the  stone  wall.  Ignorant  that  he  was  so 
closely  followed,  he  had  not  been  running  very  fast,  so 
that  our  friends  were  rapidly  gaining  upon  him.  By  the 
time  they  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  was  only 
halfway  across  the  marshes;  and  was  forced  to  pick  his 
way,  for  he  was  not  very  familiar  with  the  ground,  and 
was  handicapped  by  his  frequent  stumbling  against  a 
stone.  In  some  places  the  ground  was  hard  and  frozen, 
in  others  it  was  wet  and  muddy. 

"Cut  across  now  to  the  head  of  the  Pond,"  said 


286  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

Tony,  as  the  three  clambered  over  the  stone  wall 
which  divided  the  marshes  from  the  road.  "We  can 
catch  him  all  right." 

Clavering  diverged,  as  Deering  suggested,  and  the 
other  two  kept  on  directly  in  Finch's  track.  It  was 
difficult  to  run  over  the  uneven  ground,  and  once 
Jimmie  tripped  and  fell  over  a  boulder,  so  that  they 
were  delayed  for  a  moment.  The  marshes  were  about 
two  hundred  yards  wide,  and  ended  at  the  high  bank 
which  had  been  built  up  around  Beaver  Pond,  which 
was  used  as  a  reservoir.  Beyond  loomed  the  dark 
ridges  of  Lovel's  Woods,  ghostly  in  the  pale  misty 
moonlight. 

As  Finch  emerged  at  last  from  the  uneven,  reed- 
choked  ground  of  the  marshes,  Tony  and  Jimmie 
were  scarcely  fifty  yards  behind  him.  Suddenly  he 
heard  the  sound  of  their  pattering  feet,  and  turned 
and  stood  still  like  a  startled  deer  to  listen.  Then, 
as  he  made  out  the  dark  forms  so  Uttle  behind  him, 
he  ran  rapidly  up  the  steep  bank  of  the  Pond. 

"Jake,  Jake,  wait  for  me!"  Tony  called.  "It's 
Deering — wait  a  second!" 

Finch  now  on  the  top  of  the  bank,  stopped  again. 
Our  two  friends  out  of  breath,  paused  at  the  bottom. 
Hardly  a  dozen  yards  divided  them. 

"Wait  a  second!  What's  your  hurry?"  Tony 
repeated,  starting  forward  again,  but  at  that  very 
moment  his  foot  caught  in  a  loose  stone  and  he  went 
sprawling,  and  Jimmie,  too  late  to  turn  aside,  fell 
on  top  of  him.  Finch  did  not  move,  but  waited  a 
moment,  while  the  two  picked  themselves  up.  No 
damage  was  done,  but  they  were  windless. 


SELF-SACRIFICE  287 

"Who  are  you?"  Finch  called  down. 

"It's  me — Tony  Deering." 

Again  they  started  to  cUmb  the  bank.  Finch  stooped 
quickly  and  picked  up  a  couple  of  enormous  stones. 

"Stop  there ! "  he  cried.  ' ' If  you  come  up  that  bank, 
I'll  fire  this  at  your  head.    I  mean  it." 

The  two  pursuers  stopped  involuntarily. 

"Throw  that  rock  down.  What's  the  matter 
with  you?"  cried  Tony  sharply. 

"It  don't  make  any  difference.  What  are  you 
following  me  for?    What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"I  want  to  knqw  what  on  earth  you  are  cutting 
out  for  Uke  this.  What's  the  matter?  we're  not  going 
to  hurt  you." 

"No,  I  know  you're  not.  Mind — don't  take  a 
step,  or  I'll  fire  this  at  your  head.  I've  chucked 
the  whole  thing.  I'm  clearing  out,  d'ye  hear?  I 
won't  be  stopped." 

"  Look  here,  Jake ;  you're  crazy.   Don't  act  like " 

"Maybe  I  am,  but  that  don't  alter  the  fact  that 
you  are  not  coming  up  that  bank  without  getting 
this  in  your  head.    I  won't  be  followed." 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Jake,  listen  to  reason."  Tony 
began  to  advance  cautiously. 

"Back!"  cried  Finch.  "Get  back,  if  you've  any- 
thing to  say."    And  he  poised  the  rock  threateningly. 

Tony  stopped  a  moment,  willing  to  accomplish 
by  persuasion  what  he  was  determined  to  effect  by 
force  if  need  be.  "All  right,"  he  agreed.  "We'll 
cry  a  truce  for  a  minute.  Don't  be  an  ass,  now — 
tell  me  what's  the  trouble  and  where  you  are  cutting 
out  to." 


288  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Who  sent  you  after  me?"  demanded  Finch. 

"Mr.  Roylston  came " 

"Pah!"  Jake  uttered  an  exclamation  of  profound 
disgust. 

"Mr.  Roylston,"  Tony  repeated, '  "burst  into 
Doctor  Forester's  study,  and  said  that  you  had  been 
abusing  him,  and  that  you  had  lit  out  some  place, 
and  then  he  came  near  falling  into  a  faint.  So  we 
started  after  you.    This  is  no  way  to " 

"Well,  I  don't  care  whether  it's  a  way  or  not," 
interrupted  Finch.  "I'm  done  with  the  school.  I'm 
chucking  it." 

"Well,  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  do  it  in  a  fool  way 
like  this.  Come  back  and  take  your  medicine  like  a 
man." 

"I'm  tired  of  taking  medicine,"  Finch  replied 
bitterly.  "I've  taken  all  I  ever  mean  to  in  that 
school,  anyway." 

"Where  are  you  going?  " 

"That's  my  affair." 

"Well,  come  back,  and  you  can  go  off  decently 
to-morrow." 

"No — I'd  back  down  to-morrow  like  the  shivering 
scared  fool  I've  always  been.  To-night,  I'm  up  to  it. 
I'm  going  now — to-night." 

"Where?" 

"Oh,  I  dunno — it  don't  make  any  difference — 
away  from  here." 

"Look  here,  Jake;  that's  a  pretty  mean  way  to 
treat  me — to  say  nothing  of  the  school." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  if  you  feel  that  way.  But  I  don't 
owe  the  school  anything." 


SELF-SACRIFICE  289 

"Yes,  you  do,  a  lot;  the  Doctor — Bill " 

"Back!"  cried  Finch  sharply.  "Don't  try  to  sneak 
up  on  me.  Let  me  alone.  Maybe  I'll  write  and  let 
you  know  where  I  am.  But  I  am  going  to  cut  out 
to-night." 

Tony  glanced  at  Jimmie  who  was  close  by  his  side. 
"Let's  risk  it,  Jim,"  he  whispered,  "he  can  only  hit 
one  of  us,  I  reckon."  "All  right — heave  ahead!" 
Jimmie  responded  in  a  low  tone. 

Without  wasting  further  words  the  two  boys  began 
to  dash  up  the  steep  bank. 

"Get  down  there!"  Finch  yelled.  "I'm  going  to 
throw."  He  raised  his  arm,  but  something  paralyzed 
his  vicious  intention.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  tried 
to  throw  and  could  not.  The  big  stone  fell  crashing 
from  his  hand,  and  rolled  harmlessly  down  the  bank. 
Finch  turned,  and  with  a  cry  sprang  toward  the  icy 
surface  of  the  Pond.  WTien  the  boys  got  to  the  top 
of  the  bank,  he  was  already  a  dozen  feet  out  on  the 
Pond. 

"For  God's  sake,  Jake,  don't  try  to  cross  the  Pond. 
The  ice  is  rotten."  Tony  and  Jimmie  were  now  at 
the  edge  of  the  shore.  "The  ice  is  rotten."  Deering 
repeated,  "it  can't  hold  you." 

"I'm  all  right  enough,  I  guess,"  Finch  called  back. 
" I'm  light  enough.    So  long!" 

The  two  boys  stood  breathless,  watching  the  re- 
treating figure. 

"What'U  we  do,"  exclaimed  Jimmie,  turning  a 
ghastly  face  to  his  friend.     "It  won't  hold  him." 

"No,  I  know  it  won't  .  .  .  Jake!  Jake!"  Tony 
called. 


290  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

There  was  no  reply.  "Quick!"  exclaimed  Deering, 
"get  those  planks  there — we'll  run  'em  along  the  ice, 
and  have  something  to  hold  to  if  we  go  in.  We've 
got  to  follow.    Quick,  Jim ! ' ' 

They  dashed  to  a  point  a  few  yards  up  the  shore 
where  some  heavy  planks  had  been  placed  by  the 
skaters  early  in  the  season  to  serve  as  seats  in  putting 
on  and  taking  off  their  skates.  It  was  the  work  of  a 
second  to  rip  up  two  of  them,  and  slide  them  out  on 
the  ice  in  the  direction  Finch  had  gone. 

By  this  time  the  runaway  boy  was  about  twenty 
yards  from  shore,  he  had  stopped  for  the  moment  and 
was  watching  them  curiously.  When  he  saw  them 
slide  the  planks  out,  he  started  again,  heading  for  the 
opposite  bank  from  which  the  dark  woods  loomed  up. 
They  could  see  him  distinctly,  trying  to  slide,  his 
foot  catching  every  second  in  the  soft  ice. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  cry.  "There  he  goes!" 
cried  Jimmie,  as  Finch  disappeared  beneath  the  ice. 

They  pushed  breathlessly,  incautiously  forward, 
sending  the  planks  on  ahead  of  them.  Finch  rose 
in  the  middle  of  the  great  hole  that  his  plunge  had 
made.  They  could  hear  him  sputter  and  see  him  splash 
helpless  in  the  pool  of  dark  water  and  broken  bits  of 
rotten  ice.  He  could  swim,  and  had  got  to  the  edge 
of  the  circle  of  water,  and  was  clutching  desperately 
at  the  firmer  ice.  But  each  time  it  gave  way,  enlarging 
the  hole,  but  bringing  the  boy  very  little  nearer  his 
would-be  rescuers. 

"Stick  to  it,  Jake!"  Tony  called.  "We'll  get  you 
out,  if  you  can  hold  out.  Quick,  Jim.  Slide  the 
plank  out." 


SELF-SACRIFICE  291 

On  they  went,  fearful  every  instant  that  they  would 
be  in  like  predicament.  "There's  no  use,"  said 
Jimmie.    "  If  we  only  had  a  rope ! " 

"Well,  we  haven't,  and  he  can't  hold  out  till  we 
get  one." 

At  that  very  second  Finch  lost  his  hold  again  and 
for  the  second  time  slipped  beneath  the  icy  waters 
of  the  Pond.  He  came  up  in  a  moment,  splashing 
again.     "Help,  help!"  he  called  despairingly. 

"All  right — hold  out — we're  coming."  They  had 
got  the  plank  well  out  now  toward  the  struggling  boy. 
"Hold  out,  Jake— We'll  get  it  to  you." 

Inch  by  inch  they  got  it  nearer.  But  Finch  was 
becoming  exhausted. 

"He  can't  do  it!"  cried  Jimmie.  "Oh,  God  help 
us!    What  shall  we  do?    What  shall  we  do?' 

"Look  here,"  said  Tony.  "I  am  going  in  after 
him  if  he  goes  down  again.  Keep  the  plank  out  and 
I  can  get  hold  of  it,  and  hang  on,  maybe,  till  you  get 
back  with  help.  Yell  for  Ned  to  stay  and  help  here, 
if  he  can.  Then  run  to  the  farmhouse  and  get  a  rope. 
And  for  God's  sake,  go  quick,  Jim." 

"Tony!  don't— you  can't ! " 

"I've  got  to.  Hold  on,  Jake,"  he  cried  again.  The 
end  of  the  plank  was  at  the  edge  of  the  hole.  Finch 
clutched  at  it,  but  his  strength  was  gone.  "I  can't," 
he  cried  feebly,  and  sank  again. 

"Do  as  I  told  you,  now,"  said  Tony.  He  ripped 
off  his  coat  and  shoes  and  was  sUding  forward.  As  he 
neared  the  hole,  suddenly  the  ice  crushed  beneath 
his  weight,  and  he  sank  into  the  bitter  depths.  In  a 
second  he  was  at  the  surface,  and  striking  out  boldly 


292  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

to  the  spot  where  Finch  had  gone  down.  He  dived 
once,  got  hold  of  Finch's  body,  clasped  it,  and  with 
terrible  effort  got  to  the  surface  again.  Jimmie  had 
pushed  the  plank  almost  within  his  reach.  He  clasped 
it  tightly,  and  managed  by  its  aid  to  keep  his  own 
and  Finch's  head  above  water.  Finch  seemed  lifeless. 
*' A  rope,  a  rope,"  called  Tony. 

Lawrence  was  already  crawhng  back  to  the  shore, 
where  Clavering,  who  had  heard  the  commotion,  had 
run  down  to  meet  him. 

"Finch  fell  in — Tony's  gone  in  after  him,  and  he's 
got  him,  and's  clinging  to  a  plank.  Do  what  you  can. 
I'm  off  for  a  rope  at  the  Red  Farmhouse." 

Clavering  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  And 
as  Lawrence  began  to  start  across  the  marsh,  he 
began  to  haul  a  heavier  plank  out  on  the  ice,  calHng 
out  encouragement  to  Tony  as  he  did  so. 

Jimmie  ran  like  the  wind,  and  at  last  reached  the 
farmhouse  on  the  edge  of  the  marshes.  ''A  rope,  a 
rope,"  he  cried,  to  the  astonished  farmer  into  whose 
kitchen  he  had  burst.  ''There's  two  boys  drowning 
in  the  Pond." 

In  ten  minutes  Jimmie,  the  farmer  and  his  son, 
were  back  at  the  edge  of  the  Pond,  with  a  stout  rope 
which  had  a  noose  at  the  end.  ''Hurry  up!"  called 
Clavering,  "he's  holding  out." 

In  a  moment  they  were  out  on  the  ice  and  had 
thrown  the  noosed  rope  to  Tony,  clinging  for  dear 
life  to  the  plank.  He  managed  to  get  it  about  his 
shoulders,  then  the  four,  the  two  boys  on  the  ice,  and 
the  farmer  and  his  son  on  the  shore,  began  to  pull. 
It  was  a  struggle,  but  at  last  their  efforts  proved 


SELF-SACRIFICE  293 

successful  and  Tony,  half-dead  with  the  cold  and 
almost  paralyzed  from  the  burden  of  Finch's  lifeless 
body,  was  hauled  out  on  firm  ice,  and  then  carried 
to  the  shore.  There  the  farmer's  wife  had  arrived 
with  blankets  and  whisky.  They  swathed  the  two 
half -drowned  boys  in  the  blankets;  the  farmer  and  his 
son  picked  up  Finch,  whom  they  thought  was  dead; 
Lawrence  and  Clavering  did  the  same  for  Deering, 
and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  at  the  Red  Farm. 
Mrs.  Simpson,  the  farmer's  wife,  had  already  tele- 
phoned for  a  doctor  and  to  the  School. 

Soon  Doctor  Carter,  the  school  physician,  and 
Doctor  Forester  himself,  arrived  on  the  scene.  They 
gave  directions  for  Tony  to  be  well  wrapped  in  blankets 
and  to  be  taken  at  once  to  the  school  infirmary,  and 
then  set  to  work  in  the  effort  to  restore  Finch  to 
consciousness. 

Jimmie  drove  up  to  the  Infirmary  in  the  farmer's 
wagon  with  Tony,  and  helped  the  nurses  get  him  to 
bed.  Then  for  two  hours  he  waited  for  the  news  from 
the  farmhouse.  It  was  after  eleven  when  at  last  a 
ring  came  on  the  telephone.  Jimmie  sprang  to  the 
receiver.  It  was  Doctor  Forester,  wanting  the  head 
nurse.  "Finch  is  just  living,"  he  said.  "We  will 
bring  him  up  later.  Tell  the  nurse  I  wish  to  speak  to 
her." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   CHAPEL 

On  the  morrow  the  school  learned  the  thrilling  story 
of  the  night.  The  boys  were  filled  with  wonder  at  the 
heroism,  only  to  be  cast  into  the  depths  of  anxiety  by 
the  news  from  the  Infirmary.  Finch,  though  living,  was 
in  a  high  fever  and  delirious;  doomed,  if  he  ultimately 
recovered,  the  physician  said,  to  do  so  only  after  a 
severe  illness.  Deering  was  threatened  with  pneu- 
monia. For  nearly  a  week  the  issues  were  not  certain. 
Then  at  last  came  the  welcome  announcement  that 
Tony  was  out  of  danger  and  by  another  week  would 
be  about.  Finch's  malady  had  developed  into  brain 
fever.  It  would  be  weeks  before  a  crisis  was  reached; 
months  before  recovery  could  be  hoped  for. 

Clavering  and  Lawrence  told  the  story  of  the  rescue, 
and  left  nothing  to  the  imagination  in  their  assertion 
and  account  of  Tony's  heroism.  In  the  excitement 
with  which  the  boys  listened  to  the  tale  and  with  which 
they  waited  for  Tony's  reappearance  that  they  might 
give  him  a  splendid  ovation,  it  was  practically  for- 
gotten— and  indeed  few  knew — why  Finch  had  started 
across  the  Pond  that  night.  The  scene  in  the  Rectory 
study  when  Mr.  Roylston  had  appeared,  was  kept 
a  strict  secret,  owing  to  the  Head  Master's  explicit 
injunctions. 

294 


THE  CHAPEL  295 

One  night,  shortly  after  the  episode,  the  first  night 

that  any  favorable  news  had  come  from  the  Infirmary, 

as  Doctor  Forester  was  sitting  before  his  study  fire, 

'  there  came  a  tap  on  the  door,  and  in  response  to  his 

summons,  Mr.  Roylston  entered. 

''Ah,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  Head,  who 
had  been  waiting,  a  little  impatiently,  for  his  assistant 
master  to  seek  this  interview.  ''Have  a  cigar?" 
he  added. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Roylston,  seating  him- 
self in  a  straight-backed  chair.  "I  have  come — as  soon 
as  I  could  recover  from  the  shock  of  recent  events — 
to  tell  you  what  I  know — what  led  me  several  nights 
ago,  to  bring  Finch  here." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  want  to  hear  all 
about  it.  I  have  foreborne  to  question  you,  though 
I  realized  there  was  something  behind  it  which  in 
good  time  you  would  explain.  Fortunately  now,  we 
are  assured  that  Deering  is  out  of  danger.  The  doctor 
holds  out  some  small  hope  for  poor  Finch,  but  it 
will  be  a  tough  pull." 

"Yes,  I  fear  so.  I  hope,  I  hope  deeply  that  he  will 
recover.  I  am  relieved  to  know  that  Deering  is  better." 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  as  though  he  could  scarcely 
bring  himself  to  say  what  was  on  his  mind.  "Doctor 
Forester,  I  have  come  to-night  not  only  to  give  you 
an  explanation  but  to  make  a  confession." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Head  in  a  sympathetic  tone. 

"I  have  always  tried,  sir,  to  do  my  duty  in  this 
school  according  to  my  light." 

"Yes,"  said  Doctor  Forester,  "I  believe  that,  my 
friend." 


296  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

*'But  my  light,  sir,  has  often, — always,  I  fear, 
been  a  poor  one." 

"Ah,"  interposed  the  older  man,  "who  of  us  would 
dare  say  otherwise?    We  all  fall  short,  every  one." 

"Possibly — but  all  are  not  too  proud,  as  I  have  been, 
to  acknowledge  it.  I  have  never  acknowledged  it, 
sir,  until  to-night — not  even  to  myself."  He  paused 
again,  to  continue  presently,  as  he  shaded  his  face 
with  his  hand,  "I  will  not  go  into  details,  but  I 
want  to  put  it  boldly,  baldly.  I  have  been  hard,  hard 
to  the  degree  of  cruelty,  on  that  poor  boy  who  is 
lying  now  in  the  delirium  of  a  dangerous  fever.  God 
forgive  me!  ...  I  disapproved,  sir,  of  your  taking 
him  here,  and  though,  even  now,  I  cannot  say  that  I 
think  you  were  wise  in  that " 

"Alas,  no!"  interrupted  the  Head  Master,  "not 
if  we  are  to  judge  by  the  immediate  results.  But  I 
think  I  see  deeper.  .  .  ." 

The  master  thought  a  moment  in  silence.  "Yes," 
he  said  at  last.  "I  think  you  do.  It  is  having  a  wider, 
a  deeper  effect  than  I  have  realized.  .  .  .  But  he, 
poor  boy,  has  suffered,  and  I  have  so  often,  so  un- 
charitably, made  him  suffer;  while  those,  whom  I 
have  not  liked,  Morris,  young  Deering,  and  others, 
have  been  kind.  It  is  terrible  to  me,  sir,  now  to  think 
of  that  suffering." 

"Yes,  my  friend,  yes;  I  think  it  must  be.  You  have 
been  hard,  too  hard;  but,  thank  God,  righteousness 
comes  of  suffering.  I  can  see,  oh,  in  so  many  ways, 
how  poor  Finch's  suffering  is  teaching  us  all  a  lesson, 
teaching  us  a  truer  religion,  a  sweeter,  kinder  philos- 
ophy of  life." 


THE  CHAPEL  297 

"As  I  said,"  Mr.  Roylston  resumed,  '^I  was  hard 
on  him,  hard  on  Deering,  whom  poor  Finch  worshiped 
with  passionate  adoration.  And  I  accused  Finch  of 
cheating — he  had  not  sometimes  been  strictly  honest 
— but  on  that  occasion,  I  misjudged  him — wounded 
him  deeply — he  may  have  resisted  a  keen  tempta- 
tion. At  any  rate,  worn-out,  half -crazed,  quite  desper- 
ate, he  came  to  me  that  night  and  made  a  passionate 
attack  on  me.  His  language  was  ill-tempered,  ill- 
judged,  violent! — but  the  awful  part  of  it  to  me  is, 
that  in  substance  his  accusations  were  justified.  I 
had  been,  as  he  told  me,  so  terribly  cruel,  hard,  mean. 
I  could  not  end  the  scene,  unseemly  as  it  was;  for  my 
conscience  was  accusing  me  more  bitterly,  more 
deeply,  more  violently  than  that  poor  half-crazed 
lad.  ...  At  last,  scarcely  knowing  what  to  do,  I 
sought  to  bring  him  to  you.  ...  At  the  very  door 
of  this  room,  he  turned  and  fled.  I  feared  he  meant, 
as  he  had  practically  threatened,  to  destroy  him- 
self. And  but  for  Deering  how  nearly  he  suc- 
ceeded!" 

''Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Head  Master  gently,  "I  see, 
I  see.  .  .  ." 

"And  I  have,"  continued  Mr.  Roylston,  "I  have 
too  been  hard  on  Deering — have  not  acknowledged 
in  him  the  qualities — manliness,  honor,  unselfishness — 
which  I  have  known  were  there.  He  gladly  sprang 
to  the  chance  of  laying  down  his  Hfe  for  the  poor  Uttle 
abandoned  wretch  for  whom  I  could  not  find  a  kind 
word.  God  forgive  me.  Doctor,  I  cannot  forgive 
myself." 

"God  does  forgive  you,  my  friend,"  said  the  Head, 


298  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

without  looking  up.  He  had  been  gazing  into  the  fire, 
thinking  deeply. 

Mr.  Roylston  did  not  reply  to  this  remark,  and  for  a 
few  moments  both  men  sat  in  silence,  staring  into  the 
fire,  absorbed  in  their  thoughts. 

It  was  Doctor  Forester  at  last  who  spoke  again. 
"It  would  be  easy,  my  friend,  to  assure  you  that  you 
exaggerate,  that  you  do  yourself  injustice;  and,  in 
truth,  I  think  you  do.  But  I  have  no  wish  to  urge 
that  view  upon  you;  for  I  believe,  to  be  quite  frank, 
that  there  is  a  poor  weaker  side  to  all  of  us  that  we 
never  have  a  chance  of  conquering  altogether  unless 
we  recognize  it,  and  if  for  a  long  time  we  have  not 
recognized  it  or  have  deceived  ourselves,  nothing  is  so 
good  for  us  as  a  frank  confession.  As  for  the  details 
of  the  incidents  to  which  you  refer,  of  course  I  am  in 
ignorance,  and  I  prefer  to  be.  So  far  as  I  have  observed 
your  treatment  toward  Finch,  it  merited  no  criticism; 
and  as  for  your  attitude  toward  Deering,  I  have 
nothing  to  say  that  I  did  not  say  the  night  we  dis- 
cussed his  appointment  to  the  Head  Prefectship. 
I  thought  you  severe  but  not  unjust.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  if  you  feel  now  that  you  could  wish  you  had 
taken  another  course,  I  may  tell  you  that  I  do  not 
think  the  fact  that  Deering  is  not  Head  Prefect  has 
in  the  least  interfered  with  his  popularity  or  his  in- 
fluence with  the  boys.  Clavering  has  made  him  his 
right  hand  man." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Roylston. 

''And  now,  after  this  rescue  of  Finch  at  the  risk 
of  his  own  life, — undoubtedly  he  will  be  the  strongest 
boy  in  school." 


THE  CHAPEL  299 

"I  think  that  I  should  like  to  tell  him  that  I  do 
fully  forgive  him — that  I  regret  my  stand  with  re- 
gard to  his  appointment." 

''Well,"  said  the  Head  Master,  "I  think  that  he 
would  like  to  hear." 

With  that  Mr.  Roylston  said  good-night.  He 
walked  over  to  the  Infirmary  at  once  and  enquired 
about  the  two  boys.  Finch's  condition  was  still  un- 
satisfactory, but  Deering  was  very  much  better — 
and,  yes,  he  was  quite  able  to  see  Mr.  Roylston  if 
the  master  desired. 

Tony  was  still  in  bed,  but  he  looked  splendidly 
well  and  bright  as  he  lay  in  the  cool  white  cot,  which 
had  been  pushed  near  the  open  log  fire.  A  nurse  had 
been  reading  to  him.  He  had  had  a  close  call,  but  now 
he  was  practically  himseK  again  and  would  be  going 
down  in  a  few  days. 

He  was  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Roylston,  but  not  in 
the  least  embarrassed.  He  shook  hands  cordially. 
The  master  enquired  about  his  health,  made  some 
perfunctory  remarks  about  the  rescue  and  about 
the  school,  fidgeting  and  ill  at  ease,  until  the  nurse 
took  the  hint  and  slipped  away. 

"I  came,"  he  said  then,  as  he  drew  up  the  chair 
near  the  bedside  and  took  a  seat,  "not  only  to  enquire 
about  you,  as  I  have  been  doing  daily,  but  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you,  since  I  know  you  are  practically 
all  right  again." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Tony. 

"Do  you  know,  Anthony,"  asked  Mr.  Roylston 
suddenly,  "why  it  was  that  Jacob  Finch  tried  to  run 
away  that  night?  " 


300  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Why,  no,  sir — I  don't — not  altogether,  that  is. 
Poor  Jake  was  in  a  bad  way;  things  had  been  getting 
pretty  hard  for  him  for  one  reason  or  another,  and  he 
was  making  them  still  harder  for  himself.  I  did  hear 
that  you  caught  him  cheating  in  your  Latin  examina- 
tion, and  I  just  supposed  that  that  was  the  last  straw. 
He's  always  been  rather  friendly  with  me,  but  he  was 
so  vicious  that  night  down  by  the  pond,  refusing 
altogether  to  tell  me  why  he  was  cutting  out,  that  I 
thought  him  a  little  out  of  his  head.  But  I  supposed 
the  cheating  was  really  responsible." 

"Well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Roylston,  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  "as  a  matter  of  fact  I  was  altogether  mis- 
taken about  his  cheating  in  that  particular  examina- 
tion. I  believe  what  he  afterwards  told  me,  that  he 
had  not  cheated  at  all ;  though,  as  he  also  acknowledged 
he  had  cheated  so  often  before  that  I  can  hardly 
blame  myself  for  suspecting  him." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Tony;  "I  am  afraid  poor  Jake 
lost  all  hold  of  himself.  He  was  not  naturally  a  cheat 
or  a  story-teller,  but — but — well,  I  try  to  think  he 
wasn't  altogether  responsible." 

"Perhaps  not — that  night  in  my  room,  at  all  events, 
he  quite  lost  control  of  himself  as  a  result  of  my 
accusation,  and  he  told  me  in  a  very  bitter  language 
that  my  attitude  toward  him  had  been  one  of  the 
chief  causes  of  his  unhappiness  here  at  Deal," 

Tony  scarcely  knew  what  to  say  to  this,  for  of  course 
he  remembered  how  bitterly  Finch  had  always  hated 
Mr.  Roylston.  The  master,  however,  did  not  expect 
a  reply.  "I  think,"  he  went  on,  "that  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  justice  in  what  the  boy  said,  though  I  did 


THE  CHAPEL  301 

not  mean  to  go  into  that  with  you  to-night.  Among 
other  things  he  told  me  that  night  that  he  intensely 
resented  my  attitude  toward  you." 

Tony  laughed  a  little.  ''Jake  showed  equally  bad 
judgment  whether  he  greatly  Uked  or  disliked  a  per- 
son." 

"Well,"  continued  Mr.  Roylston,  "right  or  wrong, 
his  remarks  have  caused  me  to  think  things  over  very 
seriously  the  last  few  days,  and  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  in  this  also  Finch  was  right.  I  was 
hard  on  you — too  hard." 

Tony  lay  still  for  a  moment,  thinking;  finally  he 
raised  himself  a  little  and  looked  at  the  master  in- 
tently. "Mr.  Roylston,"  he  said,  "it's  mighty  white 
of  you  to  come  and  say  this  to  me.  In  return  I  want 
to  tell  you  just  one  thing — the  one  thing  I  have 
against  you — the  rest  has  been  give  and  take,  and 
none  of  it,  it  seems  to  me,  very  serious.  I  know  I 
have  annoyed  you  a  great  many  times  and  that 
occasionally  in  Lower  School  days  I  was  more  or  less 
impertinent,  but  I  did  one  thing  that  I  was  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  and  thoroughly  sorry  for.  As  for  your 
soaking  me  a  lot  in  the  old  days,  as  for  your  preventing 
me  from  being  Head  Prefect,  I've  borne  no  grudge. 
I  think  you  were  pretty  stiff — I  think  honestly  you 
are  too  stiff  as  to  discipline  most  of  the  time — but  I 
never  thought  you  were  unfair  or  unjust,  and  I  have 
but  one  grudge  against  you.  And  that  is  that  when 
I  apologized  to  you  for  writing  that  thing  a  year 
ago  you  wouldn't  accept  my  apology  really;  you 
wouldn't  believe  I  was  sorry." 

"Well,    I   believe   so   now,"    said    Mr.    Roylston, 


302  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

''and  it  is  to  tell  you  that  particularly  that  I  have 
come  here  to-night." 

"I'm  mighty  glad,  sir.  That's  all  I  ever  blamed  you 
for,  sir, — really.  I  have  often  complained  of  you  in  a 
noisy  careless  kind  of  way,  as  I  have  of  other  masters, 
but  that  was  all  guff.  I  didn't  any  more  really  mean 
those  things  than  I  supposed  you  meant  things  when 
you  would  look  at  us  sometimes  as  if  we  were  actually 
beneath  contempt." 

Mr.  Roylston  reflected  a  moment.  "I  am  afraid," 
he  continued,  "that  on  my  side,  I  do  regret  a  great 
many  things.  I  have  been  genuinely  lacking  in  sym- 
pathy more  than  once.  I  have  often  been  unnecessa- 
rily hard.  It  has  not  been  right;  and,  as  you  see,  I 
regret  it.  The  more  keenly,  I  fancy,  as  my  lack  of 
sympathy  in  this  particular  case  of  Finch  counted  a 
great  deal  in  what  so  nearly  meant  a  tragedy." 

"Well,  fortunately,  it  wasn't  one,  sir.  The  nurse 
tells  me  that  they  think  poor  Jake  will  pull  through." 

"Yes,  but  he  will  not  get  back  to  work  again  this 
term;  there  is  no  chance  of  that." 

"What  do  you  think,  sir,  will  happen  to  him? 
what  will  he  do  next  year?" 

"Well,  I  am  beginning  to  feel  as  I  have  never  felt 
before  that  after  all  this  the  situation  will  clear  itself, 
will  be  changed.  I  fancy  he  will  stay  on  at  Deal  next 
year,  and  I  begin  to  think  that  we  will  know  how 
then  to  help  him  make  good." 

"Really? — well,  I  wish  he  could.  I'd  feel  pretty 
good  to  know  that  poor  Jake  had  made  good  here. 
I'm  afraid  I  haven't  helped  him  very  much." 

"Haven't    helped    him    very    much!"    exclaimed 


THE  CHAPEL  303 

Mr.  Roylston.  ''Though  what  you  have  done  for  him 
may  seem  not  to  have  counted  just  now,  I  feel  very 
certain  that  it  will  appear  to  count  tremendously 
later." 

"Why,  sir — I  really  didn't  do  anything." 

Mr.  Roylston  smiled.  "Well,  I  must  not  talk  with 
you  any  longer.  Good-night,  Anthony.  I  hope  you 
will  get  down  very  soon,  and  I  trust  that  in  the 
future  we  will  understand  one  another  a  little  better." 

"I  am  sure  we  will,  sir.  And  thank  you  ever  bo 
much  for  coming  up." 

"I  fancy,"  Mr.  Roylston  murmured  to  himself, 
as  he  left  the  room,  "I  fancy  that  hereafter  I  shall 
understand  all  boys  a  little  better." 

On  the  Sunday  of  the  week  that  Tony  was  in  the 
Infirmary,  the  Doctor  took  the  opportunity  to  make 
some  remarks  about  the  boy's  act  of  heroism  in  the 
course  of  his  sermon  in  the  Chapel. 

"Fortunately,"  he  said,  "one  of  the  boys  about 
whom  we  have  been  so  anxious  the  past  few  days  is 
now  quite  out  of  danger  and  will  soon  be  amongst 
us  once  more,  and  though  the  other  must  still  undergo 
a  long  and  severe  illness  the  physicians  hold  out  strong 
hope  of  his  ultimate  recovery. 

"Naturally,"  he  continued,  "such  a  dramatic 
incident  as  the  rescue  of  one  boy  by  another  at  the 
risk  of  his  life  has  brought  vividly  before  our  minds 
the  characters  of  the  two  boys  principally  involved, 
their  situation  and  relation  to  the  school.  One  of 
these  boys  as  we  know  has  had  the  advantages  of  a 
normal,  happy,  healthy  boyhood,  the  other  through 
misfortune  has  been  deprived  of  almost  all  that  the 


304  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

first  boy  has  enjoyed.  But  the  self -forgetful  service 
of  the  one  for  the  other,  a  service  that  culminated 
in  heroism  when  he  freely  risked  his  life  to  save  the 
other's,  has  set  us  all  an  example  of  kindliness  and 
consideration,  an  example  of  true  religion,  of  un- 
selfish Christian  service,  that  we  should  take  to 
heart.  .  .  . 

"There  have  been  criticisms  in  connection  with 
this  affair  that  Deal  School  is  only  adapted  to  dealing 
with  and  caring  for  the  happy,  healthy,  lucky  type  of 
boy.  I  do  not  think  so.  Despite  much  that  has  been 
unfortunate,  despite  much  suffering  that  has  been 
involved  and  still  may  be  involved,  despite  even  the 
lives  that  have  been  risked,  it  has  been  a  thing  tremen- 
dously worth  while  to  the  school  to  have  had  that  less 
fortunate,  less  happy  boy  amongst  us. 

"It  is  a  noble  and  a  fine  thing  to  risk  one's  life  to 
save  the  life  of  another,  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  most, 
if  not  all,  of  our  boys  would  gladly  seize  such  an 
opportunity  in  the  same  spirit  as  it  was  seized  by 
Anthony  Deering  and  his  companions  a  few  nights 
since.  That  gladness  to  risk  life  should  be  a  symbol 
of  what  is  infinitely  harder,  and  infinitely  more  needed, 
I  may  say,  but  of  which  also  our  friends  set  us  the 
example, — the  good  will  and  unselfishness  to  live  for 
others.  A  school  altogether  fails,  just  as  a  human  life 
altogether  fails,  if  at  heart  and  in  spirit,  it  is  not  ded- 
icated, so  far  as  opportunity  permits,  to  the  service  of 
men.  The  lesson  of  this  incident  is  the  lesson  that 
I  would  we  might  all  learn  from  the  school." 

The  Doctor's  sermon  was  not  the  kind  of  a  sermon 
to  be  much  discussed,  but  it  made  a  deep  impression 


THE  CHAPEL  305 

on  the  school.  For  one  or  two  masters  and  for  several 
boys  it  was  the  inspiration  as  they  knelt  later  of  as 
earnest  prayer  as  they  had  ever  offered. 

Doctor  Forester  had  been  going  frequently  to  the 
Infirmary  to  see  Tony,  and  after  the  first  few  days 
he  had  continued  his  confirmation  instructions  so 
that  Deering  could  keep  up  with  the  class. 

Tony's  first  appearance  amongst  the  boys  after 
his  convalescence  was  in  the  Chapel  at  the  preparatory 
service  the  night  before  the  confirmation.  It  was 
a  quiet  little  service,  conducted  by  the  Bishop  and 
the  Head.  Again  the  theme  of  the  address  was 
service — a  theme  that  in  some  fashion  or  other  seemed 
to  have  flashed  in  and  out  of  all  Tony's  consciousness 
and  experience  for  the  past  year. 

As  he  knelt  that  night  in  the  dim  Chapel  and 
offered  up  a  grateful  thanksgiving  that  life  and  health 
had  been  spared  to  him,  he  resolved  more  definitely 
and  consciously  than  ever  before  that  whatever  he 
did  in  the  world  thereafter  he  would  never  live  wholly 
or  selfishly  for  himself. 

And  in  after  years  he  was  to  look  back  on  that 
night,  as  he  looked  back  on  the  night  on  the  beach 
when  he  had  walked  with  Mr.  Morris,  as  another 
important  moment  in  the  process  of  his  coming  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  LAST  TEKM 

It  was  a  warm  bright  May  day,  with  just  enough 
breeze  to  fleck  the  waves  of  the  bay  and  passage 
with  white  caps  and  make  it  lively  for  the  school 
crews  in  their  heavy  whaleboats,  the  substitute  at 
Deal  for  the  conventional  shell. 

From  their  post  on  the  Rocking-stone  or  just  by 
it,  high  up  on  the  highest  ridge  of  Lovel's  Woods, 
two  boys  looked  out  upon  the  spreading  panorama 
of  marsh  and  beach  and  river  and  bay.  They  both 
were  drinking  it  in  with  a  deep  sense  of  its  beauty 
and  with  a  sense  too  that  io  was  the  more  beautiful 
in  that  it  all  was  a  part  of  the  old  school  Up  on  the 
hill  there,  across  the  wide  valley  of  the  marshes  and 
Beaver  Pond  and  Creek,  rose  the  school  itself,  gleam- 
ing now  in  the  bright  western  sunlight  as  a  fairy 
castle  of  rose  and  gold. 

One  of  the  boys  by  the  Rocking-stone  was  Tony 
Deering,  coatless,  hatless,  his  hair  glowing  in  the  sun- 
light, half-hidden  by  the  tall  sweet  grass  in  which 
he  lay  at  full  length.  The  other  was  Reginald  Car- 
roll, now  nearly  at  the  end  of  his  Freshman  year  at 
Kingsbridge  College,  back  at  the  School  for  a  week-end 
as  he  had  so  often  been  since  his  graduation  the 
previous  June.    Much  of  his  time  on  these  occasions, 

306 


YOU  WILL  CEUTAINLV  B3  COMING  UP  TO  COLLEGE  NEXT  YEAR?" 


THE  LAST  TERM  307 

though  we  have  not  chanced  to  note  it,  was  spent 
with  Deering,  much  too  with  Mr.  Morris  between 
whom  and  himself  the  old  feeling  of  distrust  had  alto- 
gether dropped  away.  For  during  his  last  term  at 
school  Reggie  had  won  his  house-master's  confidence 
as  well  as  his  regard. 

The  boys  were  sprawled  flat  on  their  stomachs 
in  the  warm  sweet  grass,  heads  on  hands,  at  the  very 
edge  of  the  ridge,  peering  off  across  the  tops  of  the 
pine  trees  and  cedars  that  rose  from  the  ravine  be- 
tween the  ridges  almost  to  a  level  with  their  heads. 
They  looked  eastward  and  their  position  commanded 
a  view  of  the  Strathsey  river,  the  harbor  in  the  bend 
of  the  Neck,  the  broad  beach  and  bay,  and  the  open 
ocean  beyond.  They  could  see  the  House  crews  out 
beyond  Deigr  Light;  they  were  turning  the  noses  of 
their  boats  toward  the  harbor  again  in  the  hope  of 
getting  back  for  supper.  A  dozen  or  more  sail- 
boats were  in  the  river.  Tony  and  Reggie  had  been 
sailing,  and  had  stopped  at  the  Rocking-stone  on  their 
way  back  to  the  School. 

"Peachy  day,  Reg,  isn't  it?"  said  Tony,  for  the 
thousandth  time  sniffing  of  the  good  sea  breeze. 

"Well,  rather,"  drawled  Reggie  for  reply.  He 
was  still  languid,  individual,  different,  but  distinctly 
more  purposeful,  less  afflicted  with  the  air  of  being 
perpetually  bored  than  when  we  first  observed  him 
some  four  or  five  years  ago. 

"Doesn't  it  make  you  sort  of  sicky  to  feel  you 
can't  have  it  all  the  time?" 

"It  does,  boy;  as  you  yourself  before  long  will  be 
finding  out.'* 


308  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

"Ah— I  know." 

"But,  I  tell  you  what,  Tony;  it  makes  it  almost 
worth  while  being  away,  it  is  so  wonderful  to  come 
back.  College  is  different,  likable  too;  but  it  never 
takes  the  place  of  school.  Though  I  must  say,  toward 
the  end  of  the  year  I  begin  to  feel  myself  caring  for 
it  as  I  didn't  in  the  least  think  I  should.  It's  rough  at 
first,  as  I  told  you  before,  as  you  could  see  from  my 
pretending  it  wasn't  last  fall.  But  here — well,  the 
heart's  at  home  here." 

Tony  smiled  his  appreciation  of  the  phrase.  "Old 
chap,  you  do  get  your  sentiments  expressed  now  and 
then  in  perfectly  good  nice  poetry,  don't  you?  I  feel 
like  that  ever  so  often,  but  to  save  my  life  I  can  never 
find  words  that  seem  in  the  least  to  do  justice  to  my 
thoughts." 

"Oh,  well,  that  comes  a  good  deal  not  only  from 
feeling  a  thing,  boy;  but  quite  as  much  from  the  habit 
of  hunting  for  the  right  phrase  now  and  then,  as  old 
Jack  used  to  tell  us  in  Sixth  EngHsh." 

Tony  drew  in  the  fragrance  of  the  May  flowers  that 
a  fresh  breeze  stirred.  "Bully,  isn't  it?  This  always 
was  a  favorite  spot  of  yours,  wasn't  it,  Reg?" 

"Rather — oh,  the  time  I've  wasted  here,  little  one — 
scribbling  verse  and  stuff,  dreaming  dreams  that 
never  came  true!" 

"You  mooning  here,  poetizing — you  must  let  me 
see  your  latest,  by  the  way, — always  remind  me  of 
those  jolly  verses  in  the  Harrow  Song  Book — remember 
— 'Byron  lay,  lazily  lay'?" 

"More  or  less — mostly  less;  let's  have  it." 

Tony  essayed  it  in  his  clear  voice. 


THE  LAST  TERM  309 

"  'BjTon'  la}^,  lazily  lay, 

Hid  from  lesson  and  game  away, 

Dreaming  poetry  all  alone, 

Up-a-top  of  the  Peachy  stone. 
All  in  a  fury  enters  Drury. 

Sets  him  grammar  and  Virgil  due; 
Poets  shouldn't  have,  shouldn't  have,  shouldn't  have, 

Poets  shouldn't  have  work  to  do." 

"That's  all;  I  don't  know  the  rest.  But  when  we 
sing  it  at  General  Singing  or  on  the  steps  of  the  Old 
School  these  spring  nights,  I  always  think  of  you, 
and  wonder  if  you  scribble  verses  at  Kingsbridge  as 
much  as  you  used  to  at  school." 

"Oh,  yes,  still,"  laughed  Reggie,  "as  much  as  ever — 
and  to  as  little  purpose  as  ever,  I  fancy.  But  look  here, 
boy;  I  don't  like  to  suggest  unpleasant  things  to  you 
such  as  the  fact  that  school  won't  last  forever,  but 
I  want  to  be  sure  of  one  thing — " 

"Yes?" 

"You  will  certainly  be  coming  up  to  col.  next 
year?" 

"Oh,  yes,  if  I  pass  my  exams.  But  of  course 
there's  not  much  doubt  about  that.  I'm  not  in  much 
danger  of  being  flunked." 

"Money  matters  all  right?" 

"So,  so.  Yes,  much  better,  thank  goodness.  But 
it's  going  to  be  mighty  hard  to  pull  out  of  the  old 
school." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  helps  the  pulling  out  a 
lot,  and  particularly  in  your  case, — "  said  Carroll, 
" — more  than  it  did  in  mine — such  a  lot  of  the 
fellows   go   up    to    Kingsbridge   from   the   School — 


310  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

quite  the  best  of  the  form  usually,  it  seems  to  me; 
so  that  you  feel  quite  at  home  there  from  the  beginning. 
Then  there's  always  a  lot  of  Dealonians  among  the 
upper  classmen  who  look  out  for  you  more  or  less. 
Most  of  your  chums  are  going  up,  aren't  they?" 

"Yes — all,  I  think,  except  Ned  Clavering.  Too 
bad — but  Ned's  going  to  wear  the  blue — and  I  hope 
we'll  line  up  against  each  other  some  time." 

"That's  hard  luck;  but  I  didn't  know  Ned  Clavering 
was  in  your  crowd." 

"Oh,  our  crowd!"  exclaimed  Tony,  with  something 
like  a  sigh. 

"What!  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  and  Kit 
Wilson  are  still  on  the  outs?" 

"I'm  ashamed  to  say,  we  are." 

"You  still  sore  at  Kit?" 

"Not  in  the  least!" 

"Well,  then,  what's  the  trouble?" 

"I  haven't  the  faintest  idea.  Sheer  asininity  on 
both  our  parts,  I  reckon.  I've  started  over  to  Kit's 
rooms  a  hundred  times  this  term,  I  should  say,  and 
turned  back." 

"All  serene  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd?  " 

"Oh,  absolutely.  After  the  Finch  affair  last  term 
everybody  except  Kit  went  out  of  their  way  to  be 
decent.  Even  Tack,  whom  I  had  been  rather  nasty 
to." 

"Weren't  you  a  bit  sore  because  Kit  didn't  go  out 
of  his  way  to  be  decent?" 

"Why,  yes — naturally;  I  suppose  I  was." 

"Well,  listen  to  words  of  wisdom — it  is  all  non- 
sense,   blooming   idiotic   nonsense.     You   quarreled 


THE  LAST  TERM  311 

about  Finch.  He's  gone.  What's  become  of  that 
little  shaver,  by  the  way?" 

''Finch — oh,  he  is  well  now,  I  reckon;  they  have 
taken  him  away — to  the  mountains  or  some  place. 
He  is  ever  so  much  better  in  every  way  than  before 
he  was  ill — it  seemed  to  need  that  tremendous  break 
and  sickness  to  get  him  straight.  I  have  an  idea 
that  the  Doctor, — good  old  chap,  the  Head! — will 
keep  him  on  here  another  year,  and  then  put  him  to 
work,  without  trying  for  college." 

"You  carried  the  guardian  angelship  business 
through,  didn't  you?  did  it  from  the  bottom  up — as 
I  hoped  you  would." 

"Oh,  I  tried  ...  By  Jove,  Reg,"  Tony  exclaimed, 
looking  at  his  watch,  "it's  nearly  six;  we'll  have  to 
wander  if  we  want  to  get  back  in  time  for  supper. 
You  are  staying  over,  of  course,  for  the  game  and 
dance  to-morrow?" 

"Of  course." 

That  evening  as  the  Sixth  were  singing  on  the 
steps  of  the  Old  School,  which  was  their  custom  on 
warm  spring  nights,  Carroll  drew  Kit  Wilson  out  of 
the  crowd  and  walked  him  ofif  under  the  shadows  of 
the  trees. 

"Look  here,  Wilson,"  he  said,  "I'm  butting  into 
something  that  isn't  in  the  least  my  affair,  but  I  want 
to  know  why  on  earth  you  and  Tony  Deering  don't 
drop  your  differences  and  be  friends?" 

Edt  swung  himself  loose  from  Reggie's  friendly 
encircling  arm.     "Ask  Deering,"  he  said  laconically. 

"I  have  asked  Deering,  and  so  far  as  he  knows  there 
is  no  reason  under  heaven  why  you  shouldn't  be  as 


312  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

thick  as  you  ever  were.  The  original  cause  of  your 
misunderstanding  has  long  since  passed  away.  Deering 
is  simply  holding  off  because  you  are.  He  doesn't 
know  how  you  will  take  it  if  he  makes  advances." 

Still  Kit  kept  silence. 

''Come  on,  Wilson,  don't  take  it  like  that.  I 
haven't  any  axe  to  grind;  as  a  matter  of  fact  in  school 
days,  Deering's  intimacy  with  you  meant  that  I  see 
a  lot  less  of  him,  and  I  can  tell  you  I  didn't  relish  that. 
You  like  Tony,  don't  you,  really?" 

"Like  him!"  cried  Kit.  ''Doesn't  everybody  like 
him — even  the  odious  Gumshoe?  Like  him!  Why, 
Carroll,  I  like  him  better  than  any  fellow  I  ever 
knew." 

"Well,  my  dear  child — ^what  then  hinders  you?" 

"Does  Tony  care  a  hang  about  me? — has  he  ever 
minded  our  not  being  friends?"  asked  Kit  huskily. 

"Has  he  minded?  why,  of  course,  he  has  minded." 

"Well,  I  never  supposed  he  did;  hasn't  he  had 
Jimmie  and  you  and  Bill  Morris  and  a  dozen  others? 
Why,  honest,  Reggie,  even  the  Gumshoe  just  eats 
out  of  his  hand.  It's  marvelous — don't  understand 
it — or  I  guess  I  do  understand  it.  You  can't  help  it, 
can  you?" 

"No,  you  can't;  but  note  this; — the  more  Tony 
cares  for,  the  more  it  seems  he  can.  And  I  tell  you 
what.  Kit,  with  Tony  or  with  anyone  else,  the  loss  of 
one  friend  can  never  be  made  up  by  gaining  others.  If 
you  and  Tony  don't  make  up,  you  wiU  never  forgive 
yourselves  later.  As  it  is,  you  have  lost  nearly  a 
year  of  school  life." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Kit  miserably. 


THE  LAST  TERM  313 

"Well,  lose  no  more!" 

As  they  drew  back  again  within  the  range  of  the 
singing,  the  Sixth  were  giving  in  fine  form — ''There's 
a  wind  that  blows  o'er  the  sea-girt  isle,"  a  song  that 
Reggie  had  always  particularly  liked.  He  stepped 
forward  a  bit  to  encore  them.  But  Doc.  Thorn,  the 
leader  of  the  singing,  catching  sight  of  him,  cried  to 
the  fellows  on  the  steps,  "Let's  have  'Old  Boys'  now, 
in  honor  of  Reggie  Carter  Westover  Carroll." 

And  they  rang  it  out  with  a  hearty  good  will, 
with  long,  lingering,  caressing  notes  to  the  last  lines, 
notes  that  thrilled  every  Old  Boy's  heart  as  he  heard 
the  well-loved  song. 

".  .  .  .  and  the  heart  is  glad 
For  all  the  friendlmess  of  vanished  years." 

The  tears  were  in  Reggie's  eyes.  He  was  glad  it  was 
dark,  and  that  he  could  let  them  gather  there  without 
fear  of  it  being  noticed.  And  just  then  Mr.  Morris 
stepped  somewhere  from  out  of  the  gloom  and  slipped 
his  arm  around  Reggie's  shoulders. 

The  singing  was  over  then;  the  fellows  were  begin- 
ning to  separate  for  the  evening  and  were  calling  to 
each  other  as  they  started  away  from  the  steps. 
Carroll  pushed  Wilson  forward.  ' '  Now's  your  chance, ' ' 
he  whispered.  "Don't  you  be  a  fool  and  don't  let 
Tony  be  a  fool!" 

Poor  Kit's  heart  was  in  his  mouth;  it  seemed  to 
him  to  be  thumping  like  a  sledge-hammer.  He  had 
a  momentary  wild  hope  that  he  would  not  be  able  to 
find  Tony.  But  yes, — there  he  was,  just  taking  leave 
of  Ned   Clavering  and  starting  across  the  campus 


314  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

alone.  Kit  hurried  after  him,  feeling  as  though  his 
legs  would  scarcely  carry  him  another  inch. 

"I  say — Tony!"  he  called  at  last,  his  voice  husky 
and  strange. 

Deering  stopped,  turned,  but  did  not  recognize 
him.    ''What  is  it?    Who's  calling?" 

"It's  me — Kit.    Wait  a  second,  will  you?" 

Tony's  heart  was  beating  wildly  too,  for  he  divined 
what  was  coming;  by  the  time  Kit  reached  him  his 
hand  was  out. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  cried  Kit,  grabbing  the 
extended  hand  and  wringing  it. 

"I'm  not  in  a  hurry.    Are  you?" 

"No,  not  a  bit."  Then  awkwardly,  "Well,  what 
are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"Not  a  thing — loaf — come  and  do  it  with  me." 

"I'm  your  man.    Where  shall  we  go?" 

"Good,  old  boy.     To  the  beach  then." 

They  turned  about,  and  arms  went  about  each 
other's  waist  and  neck.  They  swung  off  across  the 
fragrant  fields,  soft  with  the  new  mown  grass,  to  the 
beach.    For  a  while  they  were  silent. 

"I  have  been  a  stubborn  fool,"  said  Kit  at  last. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it;  I've  been  a  hot-headed  one," 
protested  Tony. 

"Well,  I  guess  we've  both  been  both,"  said  Kit 
lucidly.    "Any  way,  thank  God  it's  over." 

"Amen,"  said  Tony. 

Another  long  silence  as  they  strolled  along,  strangely 
happy,  in  the  fresh  caressing  night. 

"I  say.  Kit." 

"Yes,  old  chap!" 


THE  LAST  TERM  315 

"Let's  you  and  Jim  and  me  room  together  at  college 
next  year." 

"Right  o!  I've  hated  to  think  of  college  next  year 
just  on  account  of  that — we  used  to  plan  to,  you 
know." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"Well,  it's  all  right  now.  Hard  though  it's  going 
to  be  to  leave  the  old  school." 

"Mighty  hard,  Kit." 

Another  silence;  close  step;  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

"I  say,  Tony." 

"Yes,  old  boy." 

"Let's  swear  never  to  let  this  sort  of  thing  happen 
again.  Let's  swear  always  to  talk  it  out.  No  matter 
what,  never  to  break  again." 

"All  right — I  swear — never  to  break  again — abso- 
lutely— so  help  me,  God." 

"And  I,  I  swear! — so  help  me,  God."  They  wrung 
each  other's  hands. 

"Say — Tonio  old  sport,"  said  Kit  after  another 
pause. 

"What  is  it,  Kitty?" 

"Reg  Carroll's  a  brick,  don't  you  think?" 

"He  certainly  is.  By  the  by.  Kit,  is  Betty  coming 
down  for  the  dance  to-morrow  night?" 

"Yes,  gets  here  to-morrow  afternoon;  Bab  too." 

"Good  work.  Tell  her,  will  you,  before  to-morrow 
night  that  you  and  I  have  made  it  up." 

"I  won't  need,"  answered  Kit;  "I  never  let  her 
know  we  had  fallen  out." 

Tony  gasped  with  astonishment.  "Well,  by  Jove, 
kiddo,  you  are  a  perfect  corker." 


316  DEERING  OF  DEAL 

And  so  they  strolled  on,  talking  by  fits  and  starts, 
in  the  sweet  fragrant  May  night,  glad  of  heart,  the 
gladder  that  for  long  they  had  not  known  each  other's 
friendship. 

The  next  few  weeks  were  wonderful  ones  to  Tony 
and  his  friends.  On  that  bright  Saturday  a  worthy 
rival  had  come  from  western  Csesarea  to  meet  their 
baseball  team  and  had  bit  the  dust.  Jimmie  Lawrence, 
captain  of  the  team  now,  had  played  first  without  an 
error  and  had  knocked  a  home-run,  bringing  in  three 
men — a  pleasant  augury  for  the  Boxford  game  in  mid- 
June.  In  the  evening  there  had  been  the  dance  in 
the  Gymnasium,  and  Betty  Wilson  had  been  there, 
lovelier  than  ever  it  seemed  to  Tony,  as  his  eyes 
fluttered  in  the  light  of  her  eyes  and  he  thrilled  with 
a  strange,  nice,  happy  little  thrill  at  the  touch  of  her 
hand  in  his.  And  Barbara  Worthington  was  there, 
and  Kit  too  was  beaming.  As  yet  the  shadow  of  the 
final  good-byes  had  not  fallen  upon  them.  There  were 
still  three  golden  weeks  for  the  reunited  crowd. 


One  night,  not  long  after  the  dance,  Tony  sat  late 
in  Mr.  Morris's  study,  as  he  was  apt  to  do  these  last 
weeks,  talking  things  over  with  his  older  friend. 

''This  has  certainly  been  a  bully  term,"  said  Tony, 
with  a  contented  sigh,  ''I  don't  think  I  have  ever 
been  so  happy.    I  can't  bear  to  think  of  leaving." 

Morris  had  been  happy  too,  but  for  him  the  shadow 
was  already  falling.  ''Ah — that's  the  hard  part  of 
school  life — the  going  and  the  being  left  behind.  .  .  . 
But  you  will  be  coming  back  often — that's  a  comfort. 


THE  LAST  TERM  317 

I  never  cease  to  be  thankful  that  Kingsbridge  is  so 
near." 

"Yes,  I  shall  be  coming  back  mighty  often.  Doesn't 
seem  really  as  if  the  school  could  run  without  us. 
I  suppose  I  shall  like  college,  but  I  can't  imagine  that 
it  will  ever  be  quite  the  same  as  school." 

"Well,"  said  Morris,  as  his  mind  turned  back  to 
good  Kingsbridge  days,  "one  grows  fond  of  it.  But 
school " 

"  It's  as  Reggie  says,"  Tony  interrupted,  "the  heart's 
at  home  here.  It  will  be  bully  to  have  Reggie  and  Kit 
and  Jim  and  so  many  of  the  old  form  at  Kingsbridge, 
but,  magister,  I  shan't  have  you." 

Morris's  heart  glowed  at  this.  "Stupid  they," 
thought  he,  "who  say  a  boy  does  not  show  feeling 
or  gratitude!"  Aloud  he  murmured,  "No;  you  will 
not  have  me.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  reconciles  me 
to  the  situation,  Tony, — you  will  be  coming  back 
during  college  days  pretty  often;  and  then — I  have 
a  strong  prophetic  feeling — you  will  be  coming  back 
for  good." 

Tony  smiled.  "I  wouldn't  wonder,  you  know. 
I've  often  thought  I'd  like  to.  The  heart's  at  home 
here,  magister.    Good-night." 


THE  END. 


'T^HE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a 
-*-   few  of  the  Macmillan  books  for  boys  and  girls. 


Two  New  "  Peggy  Stewart "  Books 
Peggy  Stewart  at  Home 

By  GABRIELLE  E.  JACKSON.    New  edition  with  frontis- 
piece. 

Cloth,  12mo,  $1.25  net 

An  interesting  companion  story  to  Mrs.  Jackson's  Peggy  Stewart 
at  School  is  this  new  edition,  with  frontispiece,  of  a  book  published 
last  year  under  the  title  of  Peggy  Stewart.  Those  who  read  the 
later  chronicles  of  Peggy  will  most  certainly  want  to  see  their 
adorable  heroine  at  Severndale,  the  broad  green  fields  of  which 
the  reader  catches  but  few  glimpses  of  in  Peggy  Stewart  at  School. 
Though  the  content  of  the  tale  is  of  necessity  far  different  from 
its  sequel,  there  is  in  Peggy  Stewart  at  Home  a  fascinating  wealth 
of  adventure  and  a  circle  of  yoimg  people  quite  as  pleasing  as  those 
who  flutter  around  Peggy  away  from  home.  Moreover,  while  a 
reading  of  Peggy  Stewart  at  Home  isn't  necessary  to  an  understand- 
ing of  Peggy  Stewart  at  School,  it  will  be  found  a  distinctly  pleasant 
introduction  to  it. 

Peggy  Stewart  at  School 

By  GABRIELLE  E.  JACKSON,  Author  of  "Peggy  Stewart 
at  Home."    With  illustrations  by  ALICE  BEARD. 

Decorated  cloth,  12mo,  $1.26  net 
In  this  book  Peggy  leaves  the  broad  expanses  of  Severndale,  the 
estate  which  has  been  her  home  all  her  life,  and  goes  away  to 
Columbia  Heights  boarding  school.  Of  course  Polly  goes  with  her, 
for  any  chronicle  of  Peggy  would  be  incomplete  without  her  com- 
panion. The  new  friends  which  the  two  girls  make,  the  pranks 
which  they  indulge  in,  and  more,  the  good  times  which  Polly's 
lively  aunt,  Mrs.  Harold,  gives  them,  comprise  a  book  which  is 
fully  as  interesting  and  perhaps  even  more  entertaining  than 
Peggy  Stewart  at  Home — which  is  sa5ang  a  good  deal.  As  in  that 
former  book  a  not  inconsiderable  part  of  the  interest  was  supplied 
by  Peggy's  animal  friends,  so  in  this,  Shashai  and  Star,  the  horses 
which  Peggy  and  Polly  bring  with  them  to  the  school,  and  Tzaritza, 
Peggy's  dog,  play  parts  of  some  importance  in  the  development  of 
the  plot.  

PUBLISHED  BY 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers         64-66  Fifth  Avenue         New  York 


New   Books   for  Boys    and    Girls 
Don't  Give  Up  the  Ship 

By  C.  S.  WOOD.    Frontispiece  in  colors  and  half-tone  plates 

by  FRANK  MERRILL. 

Decorated  cloth,  12mo,  $1.25  net 
With  Perry's  famous  victory  on  Lake  Erie  as  the  center  of  interest 
Mr.  Wood  has  written  a  stirring  story  of  the  War  of  1812.  Be- 
ginning just  before  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  he  follows  the  career 
of  a  vigorous  young  fellow  who  attaches  himself  to  Perry  and 
renders  no  little  service  to  the  government  in  the  campaign.  In- 
cidentally a  splendid  pen  picture  of  the  Commander  of  the  Lakes 
is  given.  The  book  is  one  which  should  strike  home  to  the  hearts 
of  the  American  youth  to-day,  one  hundred  years  after  the  events 
so  vividly  described. 

EVERY  BOY'S  AND  GIRL'S  SERIES 

A  series  of  books  which  have  been  proved  to  have 
each  its  points  of  special  appeal  to  young  readers. 

Attractively  bound  in  cloth,  each,  76  cents  net 

The  Adventures  of  Dorothy 

By  JOCELYN  LEWIS.    Illustrated  by  Seymour  M.  Stone. 
AHce's  Adventures  in  Wonderland 

By   LEWIS  CARROLL.     With  forty-two  illustrations  by  John 
Tenniel. 

Aunt  Jimmy's  Will       By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT.   illus- 
trated by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  Bears  of  Blue  River      By  Charles  major.  With 

illustrations  by  A.  B.  Frost  and  others. 

The  Bennett  Twins      By  Margaret  hurd. 
Bible  Stories  Retold  for  Young  People.    2  vols. 

The  New  Testament  Story 

By  W.  F.  ADENEY.     With  illustrations  and  maps. 
The  Old  Testament  Story 

By  W.  H.  BENNETT,  M.A.    With  illustrations  and  maps. 

Boy  Life  on  the  Prairie 

By  HAMLIN  GARLAND.    Illustrated  by  E.  W.  Darning. 
Children  of  the  Tenements 

By  JACOB  A.  RIIS.  With  illustrations  by  C.  M.  Relyea  and  others. 

The  Children  Who  Ran  Away 

By  EVELYN  SHARP.     With  illustrations  by  Paul  Meylan. 

DogtOWn         By  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT.    Profusely  illus- 
trated from  photographs  by  the  author. 

Eight  Secrets         By  ERNEST  INGERSOLL.     illustrated. 


New  and  Absorbing  Stories  for  Boys  and  Girls 
The  Secret  of  the  Clan:  A  Story  for  Girls. 

By  ALICE  BROWN. 

lUustToted.     Cloth,  12mo,  $1.26  net 

Imagine  four  girls  of  fifteen  or  thereabouts,  a  delightful  grand- 
mother with  whom  they  live  and  who  believes  that  young  people 
should  have  some  secrets  and  do  things  their  own  way,  a  governess 
who  knows  how  to  dance  and  how  to  get  up  amateur  plays,  an 
uncle  who  wants  to  appear  gruff,  but  in  reaUty  loves  the  "imps," 
as  he  calls  his  nieces,  and  you  have  the  fundamentals  out  of  which 
Miss  Brown's  wholly  absorbing  story  is  built.  The  secret  which 
the  girls  have  and  to  which,  following  the  custom  of  their  im- 
provised Indian  tribe,  they  do  not  admit  their  grandmother,  is  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble  and  it  threatens  to  be  serious  trouble  for 
a  time.  But  it  comes  out  happily  in  the  end  for  every  one  con- 
cerned, particularly  for  Uncle  Terry  and  the  governess. 

Sam 

By  EDMUND  L.  PEARSON,  Author  of  "The  Believing 
Years." 

Cloth,  12mo,  $1.26  net 

Some  of  the  boys  whose  acquaintance  the  reader  made  in  Mr. 
Pearson's  former  book  go  for  a  cruise  on  a  small  schooner  with  an 
old  sea  captain.  The  adventures  which  they  have,  some  of  them 
exciting,  others  amusing,  as  they  explore  the  rivers,  the  bays,  the 
ocean  and  the  small  towns  of  the  New  England  coast,  make  up  the 
book.  This  is  all  material  in  the  handling  of  which  Mr.  Pearson  is 
particularly  adept,  giving  him  delightful  opportunity  for  the  dis- 
play of  those  whimsicaUties  which  form  half  the  charm  of  his 
writing.  The  possibiUty  of  meeting  an  occasional  pirate  ship  or  of 
uncovering  buried  treasure  or  of  finding  a  smuggler's  cave — possi- 
bilities belief  in  which  makes  life  half  worth  living  to  the  average 
boy — all  come  into  the  action  naturally  and  the  whole  trip  is 
invested  with  mystery. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

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New  Books  for  Boys  and  Girls — continued 
The  General  Manager's  Story 

By  HERBERT  ELLIOTT  HAMBLEN.     Illustrated. 

A  Little  Captive  Lad 

By  BEULAH  MARIE  DIX.     With  illustrations  by  Will  Gref6. 

The  Merry  Anne      By  samuel  merwin.   With  illustra- 
tions and  decorations  by  Thomas  Fogarthy. 

Merrylips         By  BEULAH  marie  DIX.     With  illustrations  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Pickett's  Gap        By  homer  Greene.    With  illustrations. 

Tales  of  the  Fish  Patrol 

By  jack  LONDON.    With  illustrations. 

Through  the  Looking  Glass 

By  lewis  CARROLL.    With  fifty  illustrations  by  John  Tenniel. 

Tom  Benton's  Luck 

By  HERBERT  ELLIOTT  HAMBLEN.     With  illustrations. 

Tom  Brown's  School  Days 

By  An  Old  Boy— THOMAS  HUGHES.     With  illustrations  by 
Arthur  Hughes  and  Sydney  Hall. 

Trapper  "Jim" 

By  EDWIN  SANDYS.    With  many  illustrations  by  the  author. 

The  Wonder  Children 

By  CHARLES  J.  BELLAMY.     Illustrated. 

The  Youngest  Girl  in  the  School 

By  EVELYN  SHARP.    With  illustrations  by  C.  E.  Brock. 

The  Railway  Children 

By  E.  NESBIT.     With  illustrations  by  Charles  E.  Brock. 

The  PhcEnix  and  the  Carpet 

By  E.  NESBIT.     Illustrated  by  H.  R.  Millar. 

"Carrots"  Just  a  Little  Boy 

By  Mrs.  MOLESWORTH.     Illustrated  by  Walter  Crane. 

Us:  An  Old-Fashioned  Story 

By  Mrs.  MOLESWORTH.     Illustrated. 
Cuckoo  Clock         By  Mrs.  MOLESWORTH.     Illustrated. 

The  Dwarf's  Spectacles  and  Other  Fairy  Tales 

By  max  NORDAU.    Illustrated  by  H.  A.  Hart,  F.  P.  Safford, 
and  R.  McGowan. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY    64-66  fifth  avenue 


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